Gimme Shelter
by PromiseRuin
Summary: Bucky Barnes is a homeless, recovering addict and veteran; he's accepted to a VA homeless shelter pilot program meant to help vets get back on their feet. He has his work cut out for him, but he's getting sidetracked by his attraction to Steve Rogers, one of the therapists in the program. He's clearly taken, but Bucky can't help the feeling that Steve is interested in him too.
1. I'm Gonna Fade Away

I updated this story on 11/23/18! I'm going to delete and reupload parts 2 and 3 as I redo them, so subscribers get a notice that they've been updated. Part 3 is undergoing MASSIVE changes.

* * *

"Mr. Barnes?" A woman's voice asked and he turned his attention up and to the left. A young woman – early twenties, with dark, wavy hair, brown eyes, full lips, and glasses – was looking down at him, holding a clipboard. Her expression was one he saw often, especially on women – it was the look one gives a stray dog that may or may not have rabies.

He hated that he was here, wearing his filthy jeans, boots, and black long-sleeved shirt, with his long, greasy hair; he hadn't showered in at least a week, maybe longer. He hated the noise and the anxiety that came from being surrounded by people; but he had to do this.

He'd promised.

"Bucky," he corrected, clearing his throat.

The woman blinked, "I'm sorry?" She looked at her clipboard, concerned she had confused him with someone else.

"I'm James Barnes," he said, gesturing to himself with his right hand. "But people call me 'Bucky,'" he said and flashed his million-dollar smile, the one that could charm the pants off of any woman – or man, he'd learned.

You learn a lot of things you didn't expect you would have to when you become homeless.

She blushed and smiled, raising her hand to touch her hair in the way some women do when they're nervous. "I'm Darcy," she said and she pulled a pen out to write his name on the paperwork she was holding. "Well, they're ready for you, Bucky." He stood up and grabbed his secondhand jacket and his green canvas bag that held everything he owned.

They weaved through the groups of people, leaving the noise of the lobby, and walked down a long corridor with ugly blue carpeting and off-white walls. Once they reached the end of the hall, they turned left, walking down another hall with the same color scheme.

They reached a plain, wooden door without a name or number on it and she smiled at him as she knocked. "Come on in," a man's voice said and she opened the door for him.

Bucky stepped into a small conference room with a decent table, made to seat six, but there were eight chairs orbiting it. On the opposite side of the room, three men sat – two were older and one was young, maybe early thirties. They were all dressed in casual clothes, Bucky thought, which made him feel less inadequate about his own wardrobe, but theirs were much cleaner than his.

The man on the far left rose, walking around with his right hand extended. "Sergeant Barnes," he said, smiling as Bucky shook it. He had white hair and a decent mustache to match. "I'm Thaddeus Ross, this," he gestured to the second man who still had some red in his graying hair, "is Alexander Pierce." Pierce stood and came around, shaking Bucky's hand as well, then Ross moved his arm to gesture to the younger man, "And this is Steve Rogers."

Steve followed suit, standing – holy shit, he was tall - and walking around the table to shake Bucky's hand. There was something very familiar about him and Bucky wondered if he was a model, or something. He had a beautiful face with blond hair that was styled a bit old-fashioned, but was still looked attractive. He wore a light blue V-neck sweater that nearly matched his eyes, making them luminous. He was also huge, with a broad chest, thick biceps and forearms that strained against his sweater, but he had one of those thin waists that Bucky found irresistible.

Then Bucky realized that he wasn't some model, and, as they shook hands, he said, "I know you."

Steve smiled a gorgeous, golden boy grin, and said, "Yeah, we served together briefly."

Bucky nodded his head, suddenly remembering things he wished he hadn't. "It's good to see you, Captain," he said. He felt himself blush, becoming very aware of how filthy he looked and smelled, but, if the others noticed, they showed no sign of it.

"Call me Steve," he said, smiling. Steve and Bucky stood at just about the same height but he did have to look up at Steve, if only a little bit. "We were stationed together at Camp Dwyer," Steve explained to the others. "There was a time when there were too many units in one place and I had to practically sleep on top of him."

On top of, Jesus, Bucky thought, watching Steve speak and trying to keep his face from betraying what was in his head. I wish.

"So, James," Pierce began as they all returned to their seats and Bucky took the middle seat opposite them, setting his bag and coat on the floor.

"Excuse me," he said, holding up his right hand, "But, if I may, please call me 'Bucky.'"

They all nodded and Bucky noted that Steve continued smiling like he had just won the lottery, or something. "So, Bucky," Pierce continued, "We are interviewing you today for a short-term placement in the VA shelter here. You get a room, three meals, and access to counseling – both vocational and mental health." As he spoke, his eyes never left Bucky's face and there was something about his stare made Bucky uncomfortable. "This is a six-month program for all veterans and their families, but our goal for each man and woman is no longer than four. Now, Bucky, you've been on our waitlist for," he finally broke that intense eye contact to look down at the papers before him, then looked back up. "Six months. Where are you staying now?"

Bucky hesitated – the embarrassment that came from being homeless, a drag on society, a loser – all came up, but he took a breath and swallowed. "An old buddy from basic put me up in his apartment for a couple of months, but his landlord threatened to evict him, so I…" he dropped his gaze to his lap and fiddled with his left hand.

"Bucky," Steve said as he leaned forward a bit. "We don't care about legal or anything like that."

Bucky nodded his head, looking up at Steve, and then finally said, "There's a bunch of us who stay outside a vacant warehouse in Hell's Kitchen."

Steve sighed and sat back in his chair, making it creak. He was frustrated, even a bit angry. This was something that Steve had probably heard often – too often – from veterans. He'd probably heard something similar hundreds, maybe even thousands of times. He said, "We work with all of the local shelters but we are, unfortunately, the only VA shelter in the city. We have twenty-two beds but we can double some rooms up sometimes and take as many as thirty-four." Then he seemed to remember himself and concealed those emotions behind that brilliant smile that knocked Bucky's pants off.

I wish, he thought again.

Pierce cut in, saying, "We do everything that we can. We're all veterans on staff, except Darcy, but she's a Navy brat, born and raised."

Bucky nodded in recognition of their efforts and said, "I've been to the food bank here and the soup kitchen."

Ross smiled, looking over at Pierce and Steve to make sure that they were done speaking. He sat forward and said, "Alright, we just have a few questions."

* * *

The interview took around a half-hour and, by the time they finished, the clock on the wall read eleven-thirty. Ross encouraged Bucky to get some lunch at the soup kitchen. He thanked them all and shook their hands again, then he grabbed his belongings to head out.

"Hey," Steve said and Bucky paused. "I'll walk you out."

He didn't need help but he nodded and waited by the door as Steve picked up the folder and loose paperwork on the table. Bucky followed him through the corridor and, as they turned to go down the hallway that led to the lobby, one of the plain, brown doors opened and a large, metal cart full of electronic equipment was pushed into the hall.

At that moment, the loud sound, the surprise, and the sight had Bucky slamming his back against the wall opposite the open door, ready for an attack of some kind.

The man pushing the cart, whose nametag read 'Fitz,' apologized over and over, and Steve appeared to be speaking to him sternly.

Bucky wasn't really registering those things. He blinked and realized that Fitz and Steve had grabbed his arms to pull him back up but he couldn't remember when he sat down. Fitz apologized again and again as he wheeled the cart away at a much slower pace.

Bucky looked everywhere, trying to find something he could focus on when Steve stepped in front of him. He put his hands on Bucky's shoulders and took a deep breath, blowing out peppermint smelling air. It took a moment for Bucky to register that he was doing that too – without the peppermint, unfortunately – and had begun mimicking Steve's breathing patterns.

Bucky swallowed and nodded his head, allowing Steve to take a step back and let go of his shoulders. He said, "I'm sorry. I'm just a bit more, uh, high strung today because of the interview." It all came out in a rush.

"Don't apologize, Bucky," Steve nodded his head and smiled that smile. "Okay," he said. "Come on, let's get something to eat." Then he began leading Bucky back down the hall, away from the lobby, and then turned, going the opposite direction of the conference room. "We'll go out the side," he said by way of an explanation. "That lobby gets really loud at lunch time and…" but he didn't finish.

Didn't need to. Loud noises, surprises, and even unending sounds could set Bucky off, but Steve had known what to do in the moment.

The side door opened to an alleyway and Bucky put his coat on, watching as Steve kept walking toward the street. Bucky just assumed that Steve would take off, say 'Nice to see you again,' and go back to his office, but once they came out on the street, Steve asked, "What are you in the mood for?"

Bucky shook his head and said, "I'm just gonna eat here."

Steve looked from Bucky's eyes to the line for the soup kitchen and said, "I'm not trying to coerce you or anything, Buck, but it gets really loud in there at this time."

Steve was throwing Bucky off; he had seen him nearly have a panic attack minutes before, because of a sudden, loud sound, and he was trying to help Bucky feel calm. He'd served with Steve years earlier and Bucky didn't remember a lot of it.

What was it about Steve Rogers that made Bucky Barnes feel safe?

Bucky turned and looked at the line of people, too, and then turned back to Steve, nodding his head. "I just want to get a taco from a food truck, or something." He couldn't sit in a restaurant with Steve, not looking and smelling the way he did.

Steve's smile brightened and he said, "Come on."

Bucky followed like he'd done it his entire life, trusting this man, relying on him. They walked a couple of blocks and found a taco truck that was at a small park; there was a crowd around it, but it wasn't large enough to make Bucky nervous.

He had a few dollars from some (illegal) panhandling but it was enough to get a taco. Once Steve reached the front of the line and began ordering, Bucky waited alongside him. When Steve was done, he turned to Bucky, so he could order as well. Steve looked at him with a strange expression before tripling the number of tacos Bucky had requested.

"Whoa, hey," Bucky protested, "I can't –"

"I got it," Steve said, handing the woman a twenty.

Bucky walked out of the crowd to stand by the stone wall surrounding the park, embarrassed and angry. Didn't people understand how humiliating it was to do that?

When Steve reached him, Bucky huffed a breath and said, "Look, man, I don't need your charity, alright?"

Steve's smile faltered for a moment but returned as he said, "It's not charity, Buck. I remember what you did when we served. Shit, you saved my ass over and over. No one was a better shot and I nearly died twice and I only say 'nearly,' because you saved my life." By the end, he looked and sounded more like the Captain that Bucky remembered from then, what he could remember anyway.

Captain Rogers never smiled easily; he made you feel disappointed in yourself for not putting your all into a mission. He abhorred bad language, bureaucracy, and poor character choices. Bucky remembered watching him admonish his unit and, unlike other commanders, he didn't yell. Somehow, to Bucky, that made it worse. He spoke to them like a disappointed teacher, rather than an angry drill sergeant.

He drove his unit hard but he supported each and every soldier who fought with him. Bucky remembered that they had called him 'Captain America' because he practically wore patriotism on his chest. He was the All American Boy; it was like baseball and apple pie had a baby.

Steve was right about Bucky's skills as a sharpshooter, too, but he had no memory of saving Steve's life. After a beat, Bucky asked, "So, what? You buy me lunch and we're even?"

Steve laughed and, Christ, Bucky could live to hear that sound over and over. Steve shook his head and said, "No, but it's a start."

Bucky considered for a moment but didn't respond. Their order number was called and Steve went to get the bag, then they walked into the park to find a place to sit on the grass. Bucky pulled his jacket off and laid it on the grass to provide some comfort. It was April and the weather had just a bit of chill in the morning but, by noon, it was gorgeous and warm. This was the best weather to be homeless in.

There had been times over the last winter when Bucky truly worried that he might die.

Steve divvied out the food, offering Bucky some of his chips and guacamole, which he declined. They ate in silence and Steve was polite enough to not watch as Bucky ate his food a mile a minute. When he finished his last taco, Steve was about a third of the way into his burrito.

He set it down and ate a few chips before asking, "So, now that you have housing, what's your next goal?"

Bucky looked at him and asked, "This is a continuation of the interview?"

Steve shook his head and said, "No." He bit into his burrito and then put it down to wipe his face with his napkin. "No, Buck, it's not. You're already in and nothing we say here will end up in your file." He thought for a moment and then added, "Unless you want it to."

He hesitated before asking, "What is your role there?"

Steve smiled and said, "I'm a therapist."

Bucky tucked his hair behind his ear and opened the plastic water bottle that Steve offered him. "Did you go to school when you got out?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, I got my LCSW licensure, uh, two years ago." Bucky finished taking a drink and pulled his sleeves up a bit, feeling himself beginning to sweat. Steve noticed Bucky's left arm and asked, "Can I ask you… how did you end up in this position?"

Bucky saw Steve looking and pulled the sleeve back down, hiding the scars, "A lot of bad choices." Steve waited for him to continue, leaning back with his hands in the grass. Bucky chewed his lip for a moment and then said, "There was an accident and my left arm got pretty messed up. After that, I decided to get my life together."

Steve nodded his head, smiling a diminished version of his usual one. "Thank you for telling me."

Bucky could tell that Steve knew it wasn't the full story but he didn't pry any further. The same feeling that made Bucky feel physically safe around Steve also made him feel like he could open up about his past, though he wasn't ready yet.

"You must be good at your job," Bucky said, chuckling, and glancing over at him.

Steve shrugged, feigning modesty, and said, "I'm not the best, but I'm up there." Bucky laughed in a way he hadn't heard himself laugh in months. It felt good. Steve began packing up the garbage and said, "Come on, I'll show you your room."

They made their way back to the shelter in silence and went in through the lobby door. Darcy was at the desk and when she saw them, she smiled at Bucky, blushing a bit. Steve walked up to her and said, "Darcy, you remember Bucky?" She nodded and he said, "I need a key for the exterior door and for room eighteen."

She stood up and rushed down the corridor they had gone down earlier; she didn't have to go quite as far, though, and she returned a minute later. "Okay, Bucky," she said, setting the two keys on the edge of her desk. "This one," she pointed to the square-shaped one on the left, "is for the exterior alleyway door. If you come home after the lobby is closed, you have to go through that door. It also opens the shower room door and the gym. This," she pointed to the smaller, round key with the number 'eighteen' on it, "is for your room." She pointed to his left where a set of stairs led up. "Those stairs lead to the rooms," she stood up to show him the way but Steve interrupted her.

"I'll take him," he smiled and she sat back down, a little shocked.

Bucky followed him up the stairs and into a hallway lit with LED overhead lights; the doors lining the hall had large, black numbers on them. Steve turned to the right and Bucky; about halfway down, they came to room eighteen and Steve stood aside to let him unlock it. He opened the door to a small, dorm-like room with a single bed against the wall on the right, a dresser across from it, and a desk and chair at the end. There was some shelving and a window across from them. The comforter looked hand-made with blue and green patterns quilted on; the furniture was made of cheap, pale wood and the chair was metal.

"This is mine?" His face split in a grin as he turned back to Steve.

Steve nodded, smiling, and stepped inside as well; he filled the small space with his massive form. Any other time, Bucky would have felt anxious about having someone cage him in such a small space but, for some reason, he knew that Steve meant him no harm. "The bathroom is three doors down on the left and you can use the shower anytime; there are razors, soap, shampoo, and toothbrushes and toothpaste in there for you to use. But you can, of course, buy your own if you'd prefer."

Bucky nodded, "Thank you."

Steve's smile got bigger and it was almost too bright for Bucky to look at, but his eyes could adjust. "Oh," he said, "and there is laundry in the basement. It's coin-operated but you'll have clean clothes. What size do you wear?"

He thought for a moment; he remembered the sizes he used to wear but he'd lost a lot of weight living on the streets. "I'm, um, I'm not sure."

Steve shook his head and said, "It's okay, I'll grab some stuff and bring it up."

He began turning to leave but Bucky said, "You don't have to."

Steve turned back to him, "I want to, Buck."

Bucky nodded as Steve left, shutting the door behind him. Bucky decided that he needed to take a shower before he could do anything else. He set his bag on the floor and opened it; he didn't really have any clean clothes but he had some that were tolerable. He could wear them while the others were in the washer. He pulled his dog tags off and unlatched the chain, slid the two keys on it, and then clicked the ball back into place. He made sure that the door locked before he walked three doors down and tried the room labeled SHOWER. He tried the big key and the door opened.

There were three shower stalls, sinks, and bathroom stalls, as well as lockers, benches, and a cabinet labeled TOILETRIES. It looked like a changing room at a gym. He opened the cabinet and grabbed shampoo, a bar of soap, deodorant, a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a razor. There was a sign that read MOUTHWASH IN LOBBY and he understood that it wouldn't be left in here since it could be used to get drunk.

There were some towels – the hotel type that scrape your skin as they dry you but Bucky was just glad to have one. When he grabbed it, he smelled the bleach wafting off of it. He went to the stall furthest from the door and set his clothes down on the floor; he stepped inside to undress – you lose a lot of modesty and dignity on the streets, but he felt that he should hang on to what he had left. He hung his dog tags on the shower head so he could keep them in sight; if someone stole his clothes, whatever; but he needed those keys.

The hot water felt amazing and he was sure he scrubbed years of grime off of his skin and out of his hair. The shampoo felt incredible since he had used regular soap on his hair for so long. He scrubbed his feet, hands, and face, then he brushed his teeth; he decided he would request some mouthwash too.

He heard the door open and footsteps on the tile. "Buck?" He heard Steve's voice and he, suddenly, became nervous.

"Uh, yeah?" He answered.

"I brought some clothes from downstairs," he said. "I just guessed on your size, but I think they'll fit. I'm going to bag up your dirty clothes, okay?" His voice was even, tentative, as if he were talking to an animal that might attack him if he moved wrong. Bucky heard Steve approach the stall and begin picking up his clothes off of the floor. "And you can use the bag for your other clothes when you do laundry."

"Thank you, Steve," Bucky replied.

Steve's footsteps began to move away but paused. "I forgot to tell you," he returned to the stall. "There's a gym here, it's upstairs. It's free to use."

"Okay, thank you," he said. "I'm going to, uh, get out now."

"Oh, right," Steve chuckled, "I'll see you around."

He waited until he heard the door shut and opened the white, plastic shower curtain. He grabbed his dog tags before he stepped out and slipped the chain over his head. He looked down and saw his clothes bagged in a large, white plastic bag and, next to it was a folded pile of clothes – a red t-shirt that would fit and a pair of jeans that may be too big for him, plus some basic boxer shorts and socks. He used the towel to dry off and wrapped it around his waist.

He walked over to the mirrors above the sinks and stared at himself. His hair was long, almost to his shoulders, but uneven from the times he had cut it himself; he had dark circles under his eyes and could see the way his body had changed since he had become homeless. He had been very muscular, though not as huge as Steve, but he had considered himself to be very attractive.

Looking at himself, though, he could only see hints of that person; his arms were still bigger than most and he had a somewhat defined abdomen but his ribs protruded. His overall mass had decreased from months of, perhaps, one meal a day if he was lucky and scraps the rest of the time.

He considered his left arm and hand; there were several surgical scars from the metal rods and implants they had put in following the accident. His hand, too, had scars and he knew he would never regain full mobility in it.

He shook himself and smoothed his hair back to look at his face; he hadn't shaved in weeks but, underneath the growing beard, he could see that his cheeks were sunken in. When Steve had known him before, he'd been healthy and vibrant; his hair was short and he always shaved. Though it had only been around five or six years, he looked like he had aged significantly. He had lines and scars all over his body and not all of them had necessarily come from his combat experience.

He had several tattoos as well, each covering a scar. Each tattoo was a memory; a memory of what the image meant as well as a memory of the marred flesh beneath it.

He looked down at his left hand and clenched his fist, noting the tremor that occurred when he tried. He bit his lip, trying to focus enough of his energy into making a full fist, but he could see the gaps where his fingers didn't quite touch his palm. He released it, sighing in frustration. He had ignored it for a long time; he favored his right side anyway but he had used his left when aiming his rifle. He couldn't do that anymore.

He stepped up to the sink and ran the water, then used the bar of soap to lather up his hands and then his face. He wasn't keen on shaving this way as it tended to leave his skin feeling dry, but he would use what he had at his disposal and buy something better when he could. The razor was pretty bad but it got the job done; it left razor bumps on his neck but there were no cuts.

He checked the toiletries cupboard again and found a small bottle of lotion, which he rubbed into his skin. He hissed at the slight burn that came with using scented lotion on freshly shaved skin, but was grateful it would ease the dryness. He washed the area around the sink and wiped the hair up with paper towels, disposing of them in the trash.

He returned to his belongings and began pulling the clothes on that Steve had left. It all fit well, except that the pants were a bit big in the waist, but it didn't matter. He could find a belt if he needed to. He made sure all of his items were in the plastic bag before he started toward the door, carrying the bag and his boots.

As he reached it, he heard a key in the lock and the door swung open; he'd begun to step backward, luckily, because the guy had not been paying attention. A muscular man with short, black hair and facial scarring walked in; he was about the same height as Bucky, but wider in the shoulders. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt. He saw Bucky and nodded, "I didn't know anyone was in here."

He fiddled behind the door for a second before walking all the way inside; it looked to Bucky like he had slipped something into his pocket. His keys? He stepped forward and held out his right hand, "I'm Brock Rumlow."

Bucky accepted the handshake but remained wary. "I'm James Barnes," he said; his gut told him that this guy wasn't someone he would be friends with.

"Just move in?" Brock asked, shifting on his feet a bit and fidgeting with his hands.

He watched, recognizing the familiarity of the movements; Brock was a user. Bucky recognized the telltale signs of someone looking to get a fix. "Yeah," he answered, "just today."

Brock nodded, sniffing, and then said, "Well, I'm gonna shower."

Bucky noted that he hadn't brought any clothes in with him but said nothing as he stepped past Brock. He wasn't going to return to that life, but he wasn't a narc either. "See ya."

When he returned to his room, he shut and locked the door. He noticed that the rules were posted on the back:

Curfew is 9:30 PM but you can apply for an extension if it is related to work Drinking alcohol is strictly prohibited Drug use will not be tolerated Keep your space clean Do not engage in any business on shelter property Be respectful All residents must attend two groups per week and meet with their counselor No fraternization between residents is allowed

A note at the bottom said: "Breaking these rules will result in dismissal from the program." He felt the urge, suddenly, the craving that came on sometimes. He had been in mere feet of a fix; he had been so close. He rubbed his face and pulled his hair back into a bun before he grabbed his wallet. He counted the cash he had and took a deep breath; he needed to think of a goal; having a plan always made it easier to ignore the cravings.

I need to get a job.

He got up and left his room – making sure the door locked – and went down the stairs to the lobby. It was about four-thirty and Darcy was still sitting at her desk with a file open. He approached and she closed it, smiling at him. "Bucky, how can I help you?"

He could tell that she was surprised at the transformation. He smiled, feeling like he was on much better terrain now that he was clean, shaved, and had brushed his teeth. He was attracted to women, some women, but Darcy was too young and sweet for him to take that kind of interest in her. She reminded him of his sister, Rebecca. "Um, do I need to schedule a meeting with the, um, job counselor?"

She nodded, "Yes, I can do that." She looked at her computer screen, clicking on the mouse and typing on the keys. "Good for you, taking the bull by the horns." He half-shrugged and smiled sheepishly at her. "Okay, Sam Wilson is really awesome; he can be tough but in a totally supportive way. Our other counselor is still out on maternity leave, but I can get you in with Sam on Thursday."

Bucky nodded, "That's good. I think I, uh, need tough right now."

She smiled and typed some more. "Alright, he has an 8:15 or a 3:30."

"8:15, please," he said without hesitation. "I'm a morning person."

She grabbed a business card from her desk and wrote the information on it, then handed it to Bucky. "You just come check in with me and I'll let him know you're here."

He nodded his thanks, holding up the card and walking away. It was Tuesday and not quite dinner time yet and he had completed his goal for the moment. Darcy was watching him as he stood, somewhat lost, and she said, "Uh, Bucky." He turned back to her and she said, pointing with her left hand, "There is a schedule of the daily groups on that wall. There are, um, day and evening groups. Oh, and the gym is open until 10 P.M." She seemed to steel herself before adding, "There's an NA group tonight."

He watched her, wondering if that information was in his file or if that was private. She seemed to read this thought on his face and she said, "I go to the NA group." He blinked, realizing that she knew about him because she saw the signs of an addict trying to stay sober. She saw the need to stay busy, to keep small goals in mind, to stay active, and she wanted to help him.

He nodded and walked to the wall; the papers posted there were lists of groups with small descriptions, room numbers, and meeting times. The NA group was set to meet right after dinner. "Thanks, Darcy," he said, smiling at her. "I'm going to head to dinner."

She nodded and began putting her work away. He walked out the front door and turned left; there was already a line but there always was. He stood behind an older vet who went by 'Dum Dum,' but his real name was Tim Dugan. They had seen one another quite a few times at the kitchen and they shook hands. Dum Dum had a bowler hat that he swore was his granddad's from World War II and he had a handlebar mustache that he was exceptionally proud of. "Bucky, you clean up damn nice," he said. "But you should'a gone for a mustache."

Bucky laughed, "No, man, I can't do that. I'd look better than you."

Dum Dum laughed, loudly, "Keep dreamin', Buck."

Just then, Bucky heard a voice he recognized – Steve – and he turned around to find the man himself walking out of the shelter lobby doors. He had his cell phone to his ear and looked to be arguing with someone. "No, we discussed this – yes, we did! You can't just – Fine, fine, I'll see you at home." He ended the call and continued walking past the line of men and women he advocated for without looking up once.

Bucky had hoped – really hoped – that Steve would notice him, but he didn't. He walked to the end of the block and took a left, going out of sight. Bucky wondered who had been on the phone and what the fight was about, but he also didn't want to know.

After he ate, Bucky went straight back inside to the room that was scheduled for NA. The door was open and he walked right in; there were several chairs in a circle with a few people already seated. He saw Darcy was one of them and he waved; she waved back, smiling. He thought it might be weird if he sat next to her so he took a chair a few seats away.

After a few minutes, the seats had filled up and the prayer said. Then, an older man wearing a plaid button up and jeans stood up. He said, "Hello, I'm Eric and I am an addict."

Everyone responded "Hi Eric" in near unison.

"I served in the Navy and, when I got out, I went to college. A decade later, I had just earned my PhD in astrophysics; I was getting published, I was at the top of my game. Then, I hurt my back and started taking pain medication. But I've been sober for three years and seven months!" He said, proudly, throwing his hands in the air to show his success.

The group clapped and several people said, "Congratulations."

He took his seat and a young woman stood up. She was black and had her head shaved; she wore an orange and brown V-neck shirt, black pants, and black motorcycle boots. She was really muscular and tall and Bucky could see several tattoos on her arms and going up her neck. "Hi, I'm Okoye," she said, pronouncing her name O-Ko-Yay. "And I am an addict."

The group greeted her as they did Eric and she discussed her own story. The meeting went on that way and Darcy even stood up; she shared that her older sister had died and she had chased her grief with pills and booze. "But I've been sober for two years, thank God," she said, proudly.

Bucky didn't share that night; he had hardly shared in the NA meetings he had attended before this but he knew the importance of community. When he was alone, he wanted a fix more. As everyone got up, many helped put the folding chairs away and stayed for coffee and cookies but Bucky was suddenly tired. It was only seven-thirty but he hadn't slept well in months. He excused himself, waving to Darcy again, and then went back to the lobby and took the stairs.

* * *

Bucky's Wednesday had been busy; he got up, found his basketball shorts and a ratty t-shirt, locked his door, and followed the signs that led to the gym. It was minimal – a treadmill, weight bench, a stationary bike, and a bar for pull-ups. He went right in, using the free weights for about an hour, and then he got on the treadmill.

It was surprising how out of shape he was for having lived his life on the go for almost a year. After an hour and a half, he was shaking and covered in sweat. He opted to wear the clothes he had gotten from Steve again and took them to the bathroom for his shower. He dressed in the red t-shirt and jeans and found his way to the public library to check out some books. He allowed himself about an hour and hauled the books with him to the Post Office, where he opened a PO Box and completed a change of address form. His mail was going to his friend, Wanda, and he made a mental note to call her.

Bucky had lunch with Dum Dum again and wondered if he might see Steve. Afterward, he exchanged a couple of his dollars for quarters and washed all of his clothes in the basement. He spent the evening reading and fell asleep with the book on his chest.

Thursday morning, he awoke at five-thirty; his body was clenched and tense – signs that he'd had a nightmare – but he couldn't recall the images. He was grateful for that at least. He slowly sat up, stretching his muscles out to relax them and then he stood. He grabbed the shirt and shorts he wore the day before and went to the gym again.

It was just as hard that day, maybe worse with the tension and muscle aches that came from beginning to work out again. He returned to his room, grabbed some clean clothes, and took a shower. Being able to shower daily was something that he had taken for granted for so much of his life.

He shaved again and pulled his hair into a bun before he went downstairs to grab some breakfast at the soup kitchen. The line moved quickly and he was back to check in for his meeting with the vocational counselor by eight-ten. Darcy was at the desk; her dark hair was up in a loose bun and there was a large coffee on her desk. "Hi Bucky," she said, a bit less happily than usual.

"Morning," he said, smiling.

"I'll let Sam know you're here." She picked up her desk phone and dialed a number quickly and said, "Your 8:15 is here." She looked at him for a moment and then smiled. "Sorry, Bucky, I'm not much of a morning person."

"I can see that," he said, looking pointedly at the cup.

She laughed and said, "This is my second one."

He chuckled and, just then, a black man with a shaved head, wearing a green sweater and blue jeans walked into the lobby. "Are you James?" He said, walking over and extending his right hand.

Bucky stood up and accepted the handshake, saying, "Yeah, but please call me 'Bucky.'"

"Bucky, okay," he said, nodding. "I'm Sam Wilson. Let's go back to my office."

He followed Sam back down the corridor he had come down for his interview, but they stopped at the second door. They went inside and Sam gestured for Bucky to take a seat as he took the chair behind the cluttered desk. Bucky sat down and waited while Sam grabbed a manila folder from a pile and opened it to a blank form.

"Alright Bucky, tell me about your work history."

He dove right in, describing working menial jobs through high school, then joining the Army and working his way up to Sergeant.

Sam jotted notes as they spoke. "What about since you returned?"

He hesitated but forced himself to say, "I haven't really… I mean, I started working for a friend of mine but it didn't work out and, um, long story short, I blew through my savings and lost my apartment."

Sam listened, nodding, but no longer writing the information down. When Bucky finished speaking, he said, "Bucky, what is your goal for this program?"

He gathered his thoughts and finally answered, "I'm going to get my life back together."

Sam smiled and said, "Okay." He pulled another folder out of a different pile and opened it. "I have a list of a few places around here that are hiring but, I warn you, they're not glamorous. Mostly service industry."

Bucky nodded his head, "I have no problem with that."

Sam nodded and grabbed a post-it note, writing information down on it. "Oh, one thing first," he said. "Are there any physical limitations?"

Bucky saw him glance at his left arm. "I have some weakness and pain in my left arm and hand." He held it up, looking over the scars. "But I can handle anything."

Sam nodded his head in agreement and said, "Here are five places that I think you'll have luck with, but first, let's build you a resume."

After forty minutes of talking, wracking his brain to remember names and dates of employment, and some coaching on approach, Bucky had the post-it note in his left hand and five copies of his resume in his right. Sam walked him back to the lobby, which had filled up since he had arrived at eight, and clapped him on the shoulder, "Let me know how it goes, man."

He nodded and smiled; as he was turning to walk toward the lobby doors, a familiar voice said, "Buck?"

He turned to his left and saw Steve standing with papers in his hands; he was wearing a white polo shirt and khakis with his hair still styled in that old-fashioned way. He was staring at Bucky with something akin to awe, like he was really seeing him for the first time.

He felt himself blushing, "Hey, Steve."

Steve blinked, "Wow, Buck, you look…" but didn't finish. He switched gears, clearing his throat, and asked, "Um, where are you headed?"

Bucky held up the post-it and said, "I'm going to apply for some jobs." Steve's gaze slid across the tattoo on his arm but Bucky knew he could see the scars too; he grit his teeth and dropped it quickly. He watched as Steve looked over his body and he wished he had worn a different shirt, one with long sleeves.

"Good for you, Buck," Steve said, though his smile had diminished, and he suddenly dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his cell. He looked down at the screen with an irritated expression; Bucky could see the caller ID: Sharon. "Well, I'll –" Steve broke off, obviously distracted, and walked down the corridor.

Bucky watched him go, feeling a bit disappointed that their interaction hadn't gone on longer but knowing that he had somewhere to be. He exited the building and followed the directions on the post-it note, turning right and going up three blocks before taking a left. He located Benny's Bakery with ease; it was a small place that had a hipster vibe and seemed to be pretty busy. He entered and waited until he saw someone was available and stepped up to the counter.

"Hi, how can I help you?" A young kid – maybe sixteen-years-old – said. He had brown hair and eyes, was shorter than Bucky, and wore a white t-shirt with a black apron.

Bucky smiled, hoping that his question wouldn't make the kid nervous, and asked, "May I speak with the manager?"

The smile wasn't disarming enough and he saw the kid's guard go up; when Bucky had a chance, he glanced at the kid's nametag: Peter. "Yeah, I'll get her," He said and walked to the other end of the counter where a woman was in the middle of making a drink. She was gorgeous, maybe late forties to early fifties, with brown hair and olive skin. Peter said something to her and they both glanced Bucky's way before she handed the steamer to Peter and began walking over.

"Hi, I'm May," she said, smiling. "How can I help you?"

Bucky smiled and said, "I'm James and I understand that you have a job opening."

The wariness in her eyes faded and she laughed, like a release of tense air, clearly relieved that he wasn't some disgruntled customer. "Yeah," she said, "yeah, we are hiring."

"I know you're busy, so I won't take up too much of your time," he said, remembering what Sam had taught him. "I can leave a resume with you and complete an application, or I can stay and give you both at once, if that works better."

She looked him over, smiling, thoughtfully; her look wasn't suggestive in any way. It was more like she was sizing him up. "I'll take a resume," she said and he handed one over with his left hand. She glanced at his arm and seemed to hesitate for a moment.

"I can wear a long-sleeved shirt," he said, quickly. "It won't be a problem."

She shook her head and continued smiling, as she looked at the paper in her hands. "You're living at the shelter down the street?"

He nodded, "Yes, ma'am."

She looked at him, "I've hired a few vets from there in the past." Her tone wasn't easily readable; she may have had some poor experiences or some really good ones, he couldn't tell. He simply nodded his head. She looked at the page again, reviewing his job history and skills. "Well, James," she said with a sigh, "this bakery is my baby. Other than Peter, but he's my brother-in-law's baby."

"I heard that," Peter said, chuckling.

She went on, ignoring his outburst. "We get a lot of business; we have a lot of the kids from the university come here; there's the high school a few blocks away; and we're surrounded by apartments and businesses."

He nodded his head, "Yes, ma'am."

"It doesn't pay extremely well and it's part-time."

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated, without any hesitation.

She looked at him again, considering, and then said, "When can you start?"

His eyes lit up and he thought he might cry from the joy that burned in his chest. "Really?" She nodded and he said, "I can start tomorrow, or today if you need me to."

"Can you be here at seven tomorrow morning?"

"Yes. Yes, I can."

She smiled and said, "Alright, we'll do the boring part and start training then." He nodded his head and reached his right hand over the counter; she took it and shook. "Okay, James –"

"Please," he interrupted, "call me 'Bucky.'"

* * *

With a bit more spring in his step, he followed the post-it note directions to the second address, which was a laundromat. When he approached the counter to inquire about the job, the woman informed him that it had been filled. Unwilling to be deterred by the news, Bucky made his way to the next one listed.

Similarly, the manager informed Bucky that the position was no longer vacant. Feeling slightly more dejected, Bucky walked out and decided to head to the restaurant. It wasn't formal dining but it looked fancy from the outside; he took a deep breath and walked through the doors of Stark.

It was a large, open restaurant with the kitchen and bar in the center, so patrons could watch the chefs and bartenders. There was the main level, with the kitchen, bar, and a few tables, though the main dining room was upstairs. That level wasn't exceptionally high; it was up a set of six steps and the middle was open, encircling the kitchen.

Bucky saw a bored looking man standing at the host's station. He was older, maybe in his forties, with dark blond hair; he was wearing a black button up and black slacks, with shiny shoes. Bucky swallowed, steeling himself, and approached the podium. The host's nametag read Justin. "Hi, I was hoping to speak with a manager."

Justin turned to Bucky, looking him up and down before fixing him with a very rude look. "Mr. Stark doesn't take walk-ins."

He licked his lips and said, "Okay, sure, is there someone I can speak to about the job –"

"We don't hire people like you," he said, his tone clearly demeaning.

Bucky felt his face heat up with rising anger; he had said less than twenty words and this person had already decided the kind of person he was. He cleared his throat and said, "I really think that's for Mr. Stark to decide." Approach, he reminded himself.

"I think you should leave," Justin said with a note of finality.

"Justin," a voice said and they both looked up; standing on the third step, coming down from the left side dining area, a man stood with black hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and a very precise goatee. Behind him, standing one step up, was a beautiful woman with long blond hair, wearing a form-fitting white dress; her skin was tan and she had her hands on the man's shoulders. "Pepper, can you –" he said, snapping his fingers.

She rolled her eyes at him, but said, "On it." She walked around him, descending the stairs toward Bucky. "Hi, I'm Pepper, how can I help you?"

Bucky watched as the man – Mr. Stark himself, he figured – crooked his finger at Justin and led him up the stairs and toward the back of the restaurant. His face hadn't betrayed any emotion but his body language sure did. Bucky turned his attention back to Pepper and answered, "I, uh, I was just here about the opening."

She smiled and said, "Well, we're about to have two. Resume?" She held out her hand and he gave it to her. She looked it over and then looked up at Bucky. "We still have a guy working here who was in the program," she said, smiling.

He smiled and nodded, "That's great."

She continued looking at the paper and then handed it back to him. "I'm sorry, James, but we –"

"– Would love to have you come in for an interview," a man's voice said. They both looked up and Stark – he assumed – was descending the stairs again.

"Tony," Pepper said with a warning in her voice.

"No, hear me out," he said, stepping off of the stairs and facing toward her. "I like his look, I like the way he handled that asshole, and I think he's pretty enough to draw some business." He said, grinning and winking at Bucky.

"Tony," Pepper admonished.

He held up a hand and said, "Yeah, okay, you want to come in at two today and interview?"

Bucky's eyes widened and he nodded eagerly, "Yes, absolutely. Two o'clock!"

"Wait, wait a minute," Pepper interrupted. "Tony, he has barely any experience working in a restaurant, let alone one like this."

Tony smiled at Bucky and said, "A restaurant's a restaurant and a shitty customer is a shitty customer." He pointed at Bucky. "I like this one and I'm interviewing him. Done," he said, turning and walking toward the stairs.

"You're interviewing him? You never interview anybody."

"Well I'm interviewing this one," he said, defiantly, and walked up the stairs. "Get that resume back from him, would you?"

Pepper sighed and took the resume back. "Okay, James, be back at two."

He nodded and thanked her, leaving before she or Tony could change their minds. He returned to the shelter, needing to speak to Sam about interview skills and clothes. He approached the desk, noticing that Darcy was watching him with a sly smile. He said, "Something funny?"

She shook her head and said, "I saw you and Steve earlier. 'Captain America' doesn't look at anyone that way, not even –" But then a tall, slender woman with brown hair walked into the lobby. She wore a pair of high-waist slacks and a white t-shirt; her hair was pulled into a knot on the back of her head.

"Darcy, my eleven-thirty no-showed again," she said, somewhat dismayed.

"Oh, Ms. Hill, let me call –"

"No, no, it's already too late," she sighed; then she looked over at Bucky and said, "Hello, are you new?"

He nodded his head, "Yes, I moved in on Monday."

She reached her right hand out and said, "I'm Maria Hill. I'm a mental health counselor."

"Like Steve," he ventured.

Her expression soured some but she nodded, "Yes, like Steve."

Darcy leaned toward Bucky, feigning secrecy, and whispered, "Maria's clients keep transferring to Steve."

"Hey," Maria said in a stern voice that Darcy obviously didn't take too seriously. "Only two have done that."

Bucky smiled and said, "I could – I could use some –"

Both Maria and Darcy looked at him then. "I have some openings tomorrow," she said, smiling pleasantly, as if the entire conversation hadn't happened.

He said, "I was just offered a job, so I might have to take a raincheck."

"Congratulations!" Darcy said, elated at his success.

"Thank you," he said. "Um, does Sam have any time to see me?"

"Let me call him and check," Darcy offered, standing up and walking down the corridor.

Maria smiled at him, "Just set up a time with Darcy when you know your work schedule."

"I will. Thank you," he said and she turned around, walking back down the hall as Darcy returned with Sam in tow.

"Hey, Bucky," Sam said, excitedly. "You got a job offer and an interview, I hear."

He nodded, proudly, "Yeah, May at Benny's Bakery offered me a job and, um, the owner of Stark asked me to come back for an interview."

"The owner? Tony Stark?" Bucky nodded again. "Man, that guy is unpredictable. Let's get started."

They discussed basic interview etiquette and Bucky did pretty well, but when Sam began throwing tougher questions at him, he struggled. They worked for almost an hour on how to answer uncomfortable questions without giving too much unnecessary information.

"Now," Sam said, "let's go to the basement and find some clothes."

Bucky followed him into the hall to a door marked BASEMENT; they took the stairs down into another hallway. Sam walked to the third down on the right and used his key to unlock it. As the light turned on, it illuminated a small room that was packed with tall metal shelves; each shelf was stacked with items of clothing.

They dug right in and Bucky looked at every pair of black pants that he could find, trying to locate something near his size. There was no particular order and there were various sizes, no gendered separation, and even some kids' clothes among the items he checked.

It struck him, then, how much work Steve had put in to find him one outfit. He felt his skin heat up and he wasn't sure if he blushing because of Steve or because of the impending claustrophobia of the space he was in. He shook it off, moving from section to section.

"I got something," Sam called from the other side of the shelf Bucky was searching. "These pants will fit you."

He walked around and handed them to Bucky; he checked the size and held them up to himself. "Thank you," he said, looking up at Sam.

"Keep looking for a shirt," he instructed, returning to where he had been. Bucky found a dark blue button up that would be snug, but would fit him – now that he was smaller than he used to be, at least. He also located an undershirt to wear. "Hey, man," Sam said, coming from further back, "I found another pair of pants and a pair of shoes."

The shoes were worn but much more appropriate than his dirty boots; he accepted the items from Sam and asked, "Do I need to return these?"

"No, man," Sam shook his head. "Just get out there and kick ass and, one day, when you've gotten your life back on track, donate 'em back."

Bucky smiled, nodding his head, "Thank you so much." He was sure that was all Sam asked of any of the vets he worked with: just pay it forward.

* * *

They returned upstairs – Bucky was able to breathe fully once they ascended the stairs again – and he went straight to his room. It was lunch time, so he laid the clothes out and hurried down to eat. Dum Dum wasn't there but Bucky was able to talk with some other vets, including meeting a woman who was in the program; her name was Hope Van Dyne and she'd served in the Air Force, she said.

"I'll see you around," he said as he left and she nodded, waving to him.

When he returned to his room, he applied deodorant and set about getting changed. The pants were a bit tighter than he had thought they would be, but he was sure it was because of the fit and not the size. He pulled the undershirt and the button up on, tucking them both into the pants, and then put his socks and the new shoes on. He didn't have a mirror in his room, so he hurried to the bathroom and looked himself over. He took his hair down and combed through it with his fingers; he then pulled it back up again, allowing some stray pieces to fall.

It was one-fifteen by that time and he decided to start making his way back to Stark. He stopped in the lobby to get a 'Good luck' from Darcy, but as he approached her, she had a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Hey Bucky," she said, a bit loudly. "You look really good." He looked at her confused as her grin grew wider. "Are you on your way to a date or something?"

"What?" He asked, chuckling, "You know I –"

"Hey, Buck," Steve said, suddenly in the lobby, as if by magic. He was standing awkwardly by the hall as though he had been waiting nearby to jump out. He was looking Bucky up and down.

"Hi Steve," Bucky said, tucking some stray hairs behind his ear and feeling much more confident with his arm covered.

Steve began to walk over and when Bucky glanced back at Darcy, she was grinning like the Cheshire cat. "So, where are you heading?" She asked, though he knew that she knew exactly where he was going.

"I'm going…" he said, looking back up at Steve, suddenly. "I've got an interview."

Steve was standing about two feet away, definitely in Bucky's space but still respectful. "That's great, Buck," he said, smiling brightly. "Where at?"

He licked his lips and he thought that Steve's eyes followed the movement, but Bucky dismissed it. "Um, Stark, the restaurant."

Steve was still smiling when he said, "That is so great!"

"And he got a job offer at Benny's," Darcy added, continuing to grin at them.

Steve reached over, gently squeezing his right shoulder, with an ecstatic expression. "Buck!" He said, proudly. "That's so incredible, holy shit!"

Bucky chuckled and said, "Language, Cap."

Steve laughed out loud at that and said, "Am I ever gonna live that down?"

He shook his head, grinning, "Never." Steve paused after his laughing fit slowed and he just stared at Bucky. He felt his skin flush; he bit his lip and he began stepping backward. "I, uh, I have to, uh –"

"Yeah, of course, Buck," Steve said, waving. "Good luck."

"Good luck!" Darcy called.

Bucky arrived at Stark at one-forty and he went right in; this time, a shorter man with light brown hair was standing at the host station. He saw Bucky coming and smiled, stepping around the podium and walking over. "James?" He asked, holding his right hand out, "I'm Clint."

Bucky accepted the handshake, smiling. "You used to be in the program?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "But I worked myself off in five months. It's hard and takes a lot of dedication, but it's possible, man."

Bucky nodded and said, "I'm ready."

"Good to hear, Frosty," a familiar voice said and Bucky saw Tony coming toward him from the right hand side. "We weren't properly introduced, earlier," he said, approaching them. "I'm Tony Stark, owner, proprietor, and all-around master of the house."

Bucky chuckled and said, "I'm James, but please call me 'Bucky.'"

Tony considered that for a moment but said, "Nah, I like Frosty better. Follow me."

They walked up the stairs to the left, following along the railing that ensured drunk patrons didn't fall into the kitchen. Tony stopped at a table set for two and pulled his chair out; he gestured to the one across from it and said, "Sit." Bucky did so and focused on his breathing; he remembered Sam's coaching and sat up straight, meeting Tony's stare. "I like you, Frosty. I've owned this restaurant for ten years and I've seen Justin frighten off job seekers with his shit over and over. Clint, over there," he said, pointing behind Bucky, "played it safe and called to make an appointment. I respect that; I do – planning ahead; sticking to it; all that shit."

Bucky wasn't sure if this was an interview for a job or an interview for an editorial. At that moment, a tall woman with wavy brown hair and a thin figure approached, depositing a drink in front of Tony. It looked like bourbon but Bucky didn't drink anymore, so he didn't know for sure. Tony nodded and she smiled at Bucky before walking away.

"Pepper had been telling me to fire him for years, but he kept the rabble out and that was his job. He could see trouble coming a mile away and he kept it out of my restaurant." Tony leaned his elbows on the table, folding his hands, and resting his chin on them. "But now he's no longer working here and I need someone to take over."

Bucky realized that they were, finally, getting to the job part of this job interview. "I understand, Mr. Stark," he said. "You need someone who recognizes when a situation could become unmanageable or dangerous and can intervene, quickly and quietly, to make sure it doesn't disrupt the patrons."

Tony's eyebrow quirked and he said, "You think that's you?"

"I know it's me, Mr. Stark," he said, confidently.

"Tell me how," he replied and sat back, taking a drink from the glass of caramel colored liquid.

Bucky took a breath, then said, "In my… job in the military, I had to learn how to read situations from a distance – no audio, little to no background, and no backup."

"You think this is like a war?" Tony asked; his tone wasn't argumentative or sarcastic, merely curious.

"I think that learning to recognize those behaviors can be translated to almost any environment."

Tony's eyebrow arched and he said, "Well, Frosty, the job is from two-thirty to ten, sometimes later. I want you to start shadowing Clint for a week and then I want you at the host station. You'll learn the layout, the sections, the servers, bartenders, and busboys by the end of that week, if your observational skills are as you say."

Bucky's jaw had dropped somewhere between the nickname and the hours. "Yes, Mr. Stark, thank you so much," he said, reaching his hand out.

Tony clearly hesitated – not because of Bucky, he could tell – but Tony took his hand, shaking it once and pulling back. "Be here tomorrow at two-thirty to get the paperwork done before you start training."

Bucky nodded and Tony waved him off. He walked back to the entrance and saw Clint standing by the host station. "You start tomorrow?" He asked, smiling.

He nodded, "Yeah, he said I'll shadow you for a week."

Clint whistled, as if the task was extremely daunting, but he smiled and walked Bucky to the door. "See ya," he said, waving.

He began walking back to the shelter in a haze. He had a job – two jobs! He had a place to live, sources of income, and was going to start counseling. As he entered the lobby, he approached Darcy. "How'd it go?" She asked, excited.

"It went really well," he said, smiling. "I got the job."

"Oh my God, Bucky!" She exclaimed, happily, and jumped out of her chair to come around and hug him. "I knew you could do it!"

He chuckled, hugging her back. "Thanks, Darcy." She pulled away and returned to her seat. He looked around before he asked, "Is there a phone I can use?"

She smiled and said, "Yeah, over there," and pointed to a table beneath the schedule board. He hadn't noticed it before, so he thanked her and walked over.

He picked up the receiver, hesitating. He knew this call was important – he'd promised. He took a deep breath and dialed the phone. He listened as it rang once, twice, three times, and then a woman's voice answered. "Hello?"

He swallowed. "Wanda? It's me. Um, it's Bucky."

There was silence on the other end for some time, maybe ten seconds, before she spoke. "Are you at the hospital?"

He furrowed his brow, sighing. "No, Wanda, I… I got into that VA program in the city. I got two jobs. I'm… I'm doing it."

He heard her intake a breath, surprised. "That – that's great, Bucky," she said, though her voice didn't sound happy. He knew why. "I'm glad you told me."

He felt tears stinging his eyes, but he refused to give in. He said, "I promised."

There was another long pause before she replied, "Thank you. I want to hear from you, Bucky. I know you might not believe that, but I do."

His breath was shaky and he bit his lip to stifle it, to stop the emotion from escaping. "I'll call you and let you know how I'm doing."

"I'd like that, Bucky," she said. "I have to go."

"I'll talk to you later," he said and the line went dead.

* * *

After that, Bucky looked at the schedule on the wall. He needed to get his mind off of things and decided to attend a PTSD group that was on the schedule before dinner. He went upstairs to change – he needed those clothes to wear to work the following day, so he changed back into the jeans and gray t-shirt he wore earlier. He went to the bathroom and splashed water on his face, then fixed his hair.

He returned downstairs and found the room. When he walked in, there were chairs in a circle, again, and he took one without really looking to see who was in attendance. He leaned back, glancing around as more people were filing in and there he was: Steve Rogers, sitting three chairs away from Bucky to his right.

Their eyes met. Steve had changed his clothes for some reason; he was wearing a light blue button up that was tucked into a pair of khakis. The color of the shirt made his eyes pop and sparkle; Bucky was so drawn to it that he didn't realize he was staring. He blinked a few times and smiled, awkwardly, before he looked away. But he could feel Steve's eyes on him still.

He swallowed before glancing over and, yep, Steve was watching him. His expression was one that Bucky couldn't identify; it seemed uncomfortable, maybe nervous even. He began to worry that he should leave and allow Steve to express himself without someone he knew present. He chewed his lip, trying to avoid looking at him again; he was about to stand and leave when a tall, thin man with dark hair that was graying on the sides stood up.

"Alright," he cleared his throat, "we'll close the doors now and begin. I see a few new faces today, so allow me to introduce myself," he said, his eyes glancing at Bucky and a few other people. The group was large, maybe twenty attendees, which also surprised him. "I'm Dr. Stephen Strange. I served in the Marines as a combat surgeon. I was highly successful until my convoy was hit; I survived but," he held up his hands, palms facing himself, "the bones in my hands were shattered." Leaning forward a bit, Bucky could see the tremors and the thin surgical scars that ran along his fingers and the backs of his palms.

"I had to have dozens of metal bars put in to allow the bones to heal but my hands would never be the same. I could no longer perform surgery." He stepped forward more, still holding his hands up. "You can see the tremor and that, I'm told, is mostly psychosomatic, but it ensured that I could never practice surgery again. I wanted to give up, I wanted to end it, but I didn't.

"Instead, I traveled; I went to Ashrams and temples, finally ending up at a temple in the Himalayas. I learned to accept my physical limitations but learning to accept the effects of the trauma was much more difficult. I returned to school and trained in a new field. Now, I am a licensed psychiatrist. I've worked with this shelter for three years and I have a practice as well," he explained. "Now, I would like us to introduce ourselves with our first names only and you may also share your branch of the military or something else that you would like us all to know."

They began on Dr. Strange's right, going counterclockwise; the participants gave their military branch and how long they had served. Bucky tried not to watch Steve, but his eyes unconsciously moved to him; sometimes he was staring back at Bucky, but sometimes not. When they reached Dr. Strange again, he said, "Welcome everyone."

They met for an hour, discussing how to challenge negative thinking and unhealthy habits. Several people shared about their nightmares; unconscious responses to seeing an unclaimed backpack; physical responses to loud sounds; and panic attacks that came on from surprises. Bucky felt even worse when Dr. Strange turned to Steve and said, "You're unusually quiet today, Steve."

Bucky knew that Steve was uncomfortable with his presence and he felt ashamed for having imposed on his space. Steve smiled and said, "I'm doing okay this week."

When the group let out, Bucky stood and walked to the door; he hadn't considered that Steve would be there and, if he had, he would never have anticipated it would make Steve so uncomfortable. He was opening the door to leave when he heard footsteps; he assumed it was someone else leaving, but a warm, dry hand grabbed his right arm. He turned, quickly, finding Steve and his goddamn blue eyes and shirt.

"Buck," he said, releasing his arm; Bucky watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. "How are you?"

"I'm doing okay," he said as he chewed his lip some more and Steve watched him.

"That's good," he said, his eyes still on Bucky's lips. "How did your interview go?"

"I got the job," he replied, feeling nervous without knowing exactly why.

"That's great!" He said, smiling. But they both seemed to hesitate after that and Steve shifted on his feet, seemingly nervous too. "Are you… do you want to get something to eat?"

Bucky was about to answer when Steve's phone chirped; he dug it out of his pocket and checked it, frowning. It must have been the same person from earlier, because his expression was the same: annoyed, unhappy.

"I, uh, I was gonna eat here," Bucky said, interrupting Steve's stare-down with his phone.

He looked up at Bucky, suddenly, and clicked his phone off before shoving it back in his pocket. His smile returned as if it had never left and he said, "Nah, my treat, okay?"

Bucky shifted in his spot, biting his lip some more. "Steve, you don't have to keep buying me things. I'm not asking you to."

"I know you aren't, Buck," he said, his smile faltering a bit. "I want to." Bucky looked around, hesitating. "Hey," Steve said, leaning into his field of view, "I want –" but he was interrupted by his phone, chirping again.

He sighed in frustration, pulling it out and clicking on the message. This time, Bucky caught sight of the name: Sharon. I was right, he thought.

"Shit," Steve grumbled, "I gotta go. Rain check?" Bucky nodded his head as Steve walked through the door.

That night, Bucky stayed in his room and went hungry, trying to forget the way Steve had looked at his lips.

* * *

The following day, Bucky rose at five to work out and shower, then went straight to Benny's. He went inside and May pulled him behind the counter and into a small, stuffy office to complete his paperwork. He said, "Um, Miss –"

She interrupted, "Call me May." Her hair was up; she was wearing a white shirt under her black apron and orange capris.

He nodded, "Okay, I wanted to tell you that I've also been offered a job in the afternoons. It starts at two."

She thought for a moment and asked, "Can you be here at five in the morning tomorrow?"

"Absolutely," he said, smiling.

"Can you come at five every day?" He nodded, assuredly. "Okay, you'll work until noon or twelve-thirty at the latest. Can you do Tuesdays through Fridays, and some Saturdays?"

"I can work later than that, if you need me to."

She shook her head, smiling. "No, Peter and I do okay after the morning rush."

At twelve-thirty that day, she told him to make himself a sandwich while she counted up tip money from the morning. She handed over a sizable stack of dollar bills and fives. He looked at the money in his hand and said, shocked, "May, this is, like, seventy dollars."

She blinked, "Did you think…more?"

He shook his head. "No, no! I just… this is a lot."

She laughed and said, "Bucky, you saw how busy it was. That's how it is. I told you, homes, schools, offices – we are in a prime location for high traffic." She patted his shoulder and said, "We do okay."

He nodded, smiling, "Thank you so much."

She waved as he walked out the door. "Keep track of that for your taxes," she called.

He jammed the bills into his wallet; he couldn't remember the last time that he'd had that much money at one time. As he walked back to the shelter, he ate the bagel sandwich he had made. By the time he returned, it was completely gone. He walked through the lobby, waving at Darcy, and he took the stairs, two at a time, to his room.

He pulled the money out and tucked it in an empty aspirin bottle on his desk. He smelled his clothes and sighed, noting the sweet smell of baked goods and the slightly greasy smell that accompanied it. He dug out the other shirt that Sam had found for him and applied more deodorant.

He had just eaten, so he had no reason to go to the soup kitchen, and it was barely one, so he went downstairs to the lobby. Darcy was talking to a tall, bald, black man with an eyepatch and some facial scarring. He was wearing a nice suit and Bucky presumed that he worked here in some capacity, but he was twitchy, anxious.

Darcy glanced at Bucky but didn't smile, which made him worry a bit – maybe she was in some kind of trouble? He walked over to the wall with the schedules on it and pretended to be very interested in them as he attempted to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"Mr. Fury, you're welcome to take a seat and wait for her."

"No, no, I'll stand," he said, nervously shifting.

"You look fine, sir," Darcy smiled. "She'll love it."

He smiled a bit but shook his head, "You don't think –"

"Darcy, what was the big emergenc–" Maria came walking down the corridor into the lobby, stopping in her tracks when she saw Fury. "Nick?" She said, quietly.

He smiled, sheepishly, "Hi, baby."

She practically screamed with excitement, running and leaping for Nick catch her. "Oh my God, when did you..? Why didn't you call me?"

"I wanted to surprise you," he whispered, holding her closer. "I missed you."

She nodded her agreement as she began kissing him and Bucky turned away to give them privacy. He heard footsteps coming but continued to avert his eyes. "General Fury?" Steve asked – of course Steve heard Maria scream and came running.

Bucky was only able to look away until he arrived. He turned toward them and watched Maria, unwillingly, step back and Steve and Nick shook hands; both men were smiling giddily. "Captain America," Nick replied, chuckling. "How the hell've you been, man?"

He shrugged, finally noticing Bucky. "I'm, um, I'm good, sir." He nodded his head and followed Steve's glance, seeing Bucky standing and staring like an idiot. "Uh, sir, this is James Barnes. He and I served together."

Nick walked over to him, holding out his right hand. "Good to meet you, son."

Bucky accepted the handshake and nodded, "You too, sir, thank you."

"Well, it was nice to see all of you, but I'm going to take Maria out to lunch," he said, returning to her side and taking her hand.

She was blushing and laughing, nervously, and Bucky knew that they weren't going to be eating anything. He waved to them as they left and he returned his attention to the schedules. "Hey Buck," Steve said, suddenly standing right behind him.

He turned, "Hey Steve."

"You started work today, right?"

He nodded, "Yeah, I gotta get to my second job here soon, too."

Steve smiled, "That's great, I'm so… I'm glad." Bucky tucked a few loose strands of hair behind his ear; Steve watched the motion with a strange look in his eye. He seemed to shake himself out of it, though, and squared his shoulders. "I was about to put up fliers for the camping trip," he said, holding up a stack of colored pages. "Every year, Sam and I take some of the vets out. You should come," he said, handing a page to Bucky. "It's not until August."

He looked at it and said, "I'll ask for the days off, but I can't guarantee it."

Steve smiled, happily, "Yeah, no, of course, you just started. But I hope you can make it. We do barbecues and swim; it's fun."

Bucky nodded, smiling, "I'd like to. I haven't been camping in years."

"Are you working at Stark tonight?" He asked, completely switching gears.

"Yeah, he is," Darcy said. "Weren't you trying to decide on a place to go tonight?" She asked Steve, leading; Bucky blushed, staring at her with a mortified expression.

Steve didn't seem to notice either her tone or Bucky's expression, though, and said, "Yeah, I was. Maybe we'll see you tonight," he added, smiling brightly, and then he returned down the corridor.

Bucky turned to Darcy, eyes wide and mouth agape. "What are you doing, Darcy?" He asked in a low tone.

She smiled and said, "You like him."

"Darcy, that doesn't matter," he replied, shaking his head in disbelief.

She looked at him, confusion plain in her features. "Bucky, that's the only thing that matters."

He shook his head, frustrated. "Darcy, he has a girlfriend; he's straight."

"You don't know that for sure –"

"He's Captain America, Darcy," he interrupted. "Do you think Captain America likes dick?" He asked, sardonically, and didn't give her the chance to answer him; he looked at the clock and said, hurriedly, "I'll talk to you later," as he rushed out the door.

* * *

He arrived at Stark at two-fifteen and Clint was waiting for him at the hosts' station. "Come with me and we'll get your clocked in." They began walking around the kitchen and bar, toward a back door. "Pepper will go over the paperwork with you and then, hopefully by three, you'll be back out here."

Bucky followed him through the door and into a small waiting area; opposite them was a closed door. The walls were decorated with magazine and newspaper articles about Stark and there were three white, padded chairs and a matching loveseat. Clint gestured to a chair and walked back to the door, knocking three times.

After a few moments, Pepper opened the door, smiling at the sight of Clint. "James is here to get the paperwork done."

She nodded and he returned to the restaurant. "Come on in, James," she said, waving him in. He stepped through the door into a fairly large office with a black desk, three chairs, and monitors standing behind Pepper's chair, showing every angle of the restaurant. He sat down in front of the desk as she took her place behind it, pulling out paperwork for him. "Alright, let's start with these."

Twenty minutes later, they had done the necessary forms and discussed the schedule, clocking in, and how to request days off. Bucky said, "Um, there's a, uh, retreat that the program is putting on in early August –"

"Oh, the camping trip?" She asked, smiling brightly. "Clint would be so disappointed if you didn't go. You have the dates?" He pulled the flier out of his pocket and opened it; she took it and said, "This is totally doable."

"Really?" He asked, nervously. "If anything happens, I will gladly come in."

She smiled and nodded, "I'll keep that in mind."

She wrote down the dates of the trip on her desk calendar with his name next to them and said, "Today, you'll shadow Clint and just observe. Tomorrow, if you're feeling ready, he'll let you step in and, over the next week, you will do that more and more."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, nodding.

"Pepper, please," she said, then leaned back in her chair.

He nodded, "Please, call me 'Bucky.'"

She smiled and nodded, "Alright, Bucky, Clint will be waiting for you. Tony will be in around four today." He nodded, smiling, and returned to the restaurant.

Clint was standing by the bar, talking to another man. "Come on, Drax," Clint whined.

The bartender, Drax, was bald with what looked like some kind of tribal tattoos spreading up his neck; he was very bulky and wore a sedate expression on his face. Clint was leaning across the bar, gazing at him, and obviously flirting pretty heavily. For his part, the large man looked anywhere but at Clint as he focused on drying drinking glasses.

"I do not mix romance and work, Barton," he snapped, setting the glass below the bar. "Ah, it looks like your shadow is here now," he said, gesturing toward Bucky and turning away.

Clint looked over but not before he said, "I'll be back later."

"I am sure you will," Drax replied, looking at Clint over his shoulder and smiling.

"I see that, I see that," he said, pointing at Drax, and grinning. "Anyway, come on James, let's get started." Bucky nodded and followed him, waving quickly at the bartender as they rushed by. "So, we open at four for dinner – the only day we open earlier is Saturday; we have a limited lunch menu that Tony is trying out." Bucky listened, making mental notes as they went. "Before we open, though, we do the set up and preparation for the entire dining room. It sounds easy, but it takes time and Tony expects perfection. He can spot a smudged glass or crooked place setting a mile away."

Over the next hour, they set out silverware, water glasses, and cleaned the menus. At four, there were already people waiting and Bucky did as Pepper instructed; he stayed with Clint and observed him.

Clint was funny with the patrons; they came in and he was able to get even the grumpiest looking businessman to smile. He was flirtatious with the women, but not in a lewd way that would make them uncomfortable. He made a point of introducing Bucky and explaining that he was new so that they wouldn't be confused as to why he was following and not speaking.

Around four, Tony Stark came in, wearing a gray suit with a light pink button up. As he walked by, he patted Bucky's shoulder. "Glad to have you," he said, walking toward the back.

At seven-thirty, Clint told Bucky to take a break and he nodded. "Do I just go the back or go outside, or..?" He asked.

"You can go to the back or you can go to the bar and get an appetizer. It's on the house for us," he said, smiling.

At that moment, his stomach growled and he rushed in that direction. Drax was busy; he was the only bartender in a crowded restaurant, but he looked extremely cool and collected. Dozens of people were shouting drink orders at him and he seemed to register each and every one. He approached Bucky and said, "Pick an appetizer from this menu," and handed him a long, thin page.

"I'll have the nachos," he said, barely glancing at the options and Drax nodded, stepping away. "Can I have some water, too?"

Within ten minutes, his nachos had arrived and he had already chugged three glasses of water. He finished the plate within five minutes, glad that the restaurant was so busy that no one watched him. When he was done, he ran to the restroom and returned to Clint. "Okay, man," he said, "I'm going to take a fifteen. So, for the next fifteen minutes, you're going to do this."

Bucky gulped, "Okay. Okay, I can do this."

"You know the system well enough and Scott has already cleared two tables on the right side, so when he signals, you can take the next two couples. The tall guy with a man-bun is next."

Bucky nodded, glancing at the man he was referring to, and took a deep breath, "Okay."

Clint patted his right shoulder and walked away; Bucky watched as he approached the bar and Drax grinned, shaking his head. He turned and looked up at the dining area, waiting for Scott, the thin server with dark brown hair and a pointed nose, to nod.

As he watched, the man in question came to the rail and signaled Bucky and he stepped toward the crowd, grabbing two menus. He located a tall, muscular man with long hair in a very attractive bun atop his head; his date barely reached his shoulder in height, but she was a looker too. "Your table is ready," Bucky said, smiling nervously, and gesturing for them to follow.

"Is this alright?" He asked, taking them to the first available table and the woman smiled.

"This is just fine." Her smile was radiant and her date definitely appreciated it.

"Thank you," the man said in a deep, accented voice.

He handed them menus and said, "Scott will be your server tonight." He smiled at them again before starting back toward the podium.

"Hey Buck." The voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned and saw Steve sitting two tables over, next to a gorgeous woman with short, red hair. He approached them, cautiously. "I hoped you would seat us but I think you were on break," Steve said, smiling.

Bucky nodded, unsure of what to do with his hands, so he slid them into his back pockets. "Yeah, I just, uh, how is everything so far?"

Steve had a large beer in front of him and his date – Sharon, Bucky assumed – had a martini with extra olives. "It's good," she said, eying Bucky with one eyebrow raised; it was almost like she was… appraising him. She was incredibly beautiful – she was fit, had a nice figure, and was wearing a tight, black dress and red pumps. He had nothing on her – nothing at all. "This your first night?" She asked, with a hint of a smile.

He nodded, trying to shake off the melancholy coming on, "Yeah, I just started."

Steve was smiling. "I hope it's alright that we –"

"Yes, of course," Bucky answered, though it didn't feel fine. "I gotta, uh," he said, gesturing back to the doors and turned without another word.

Scott signaled him again and he grabbed the next couple, leading them to their table. He noticed that Val – a young, black woman originally from England – was also signaling him about a table in her section. Clint returned a few moments later and praised his work. "You were nervous but you did it, man."

Bucky nodded, trying to focus on anything but the sinking feeling in his gut. "There's a woman at the bar asking for you. Uh," he looked around the dining room and added, "we still have a few minutes to wait before Val or Scott have a table open up." He nodded for Bucky to go to the bar and he did, without really considering who would be asking for him or why.

He approached and saw… tight black dress, red heels, and red hair. She was watching him approach with a mischievous smile on her face. "Can I help you?" He asked, doing his absolute best to keep all emotion out of his voice.

She shook her head and gestured up to her table with her head. "You know Steve, huh?"

He gulped, but nodded his head, "He works at the shelter."

"I think there's a bit more to it than that," she said.

He couldn't read her facial expression; it seemed almost… amused. Her full lips were upturned in a small smile and her green eyes were bright.

He shook his head and said, "No, well, we served together years ago but –"

"You like him," she said, her full, red lips smiling fully.

He tried to play dumb, tried to keep Sharon from worrying about him and becoming unhappy with Steve. "Sure, he's a great guy, Sharon," he said.

Her eyes widened, suddenly, and she burst into a fit of laughter. He was looking around, trying to figure out if he had something on his shirt or a booger on his face, or something. "Oh, Bucky," she said, giggling, "I'm not Sharon."

His brows furrowed, confused; he said, "I just assumed, I'm sorry."

She nodded, "Yeah, it's a safe assumption, but, no. I'm Steve's best friend." He nodded, wondering what the point of all of this was. "Look, Bucky, I don't know you but I know Steve and, well, he's not happy. Not with her," she was watching his face intently, observing his reactions. "He talks about you a lot and he actually seems happy when he does. It's almost like someone flicked the lights on. You understand? I haven't seen him that way in almost a year."

He was trying not to get excited about what she was saying, but it was difficult. He'd, of course, noticed how Steve reacted to calls and messages from Sharon. He seemed defeated, angry, and hopeless. In that way, this woman was right.

"She's not good for him anymore and I won't say exactly why, but," she approached him, speaking in a low voice as if they were in cahoots. "He should leave her and it'd be great if some hot guy wanted to flirt with him, maybe show him what he's missing."

Bucky gave her a long, hard look and said, "I'm not interested in being his 'mistress,' if you're asking me to be."

She laughed again, shaking her head. "No, Bucky, I'm asking you to do what you want to. I spent a minute between you two and I could tell you have feelings for him. I'm asking you to let yourself and, maybe, see if he responds."

He hesitated a moment before he asked, "What makes you think I'd be better than Sharon?"

Her face lost every trace of amusement and she observed him with eyes that, he could tell, were seeing his every flaw. "I know what you did for him over there," she said.

He swallowed and said, "That's not me anymore."

She met his eyes, searching them, before she said, "Yes, it is." With that, she returned to the bar and grabbed the drinks she had been waiting for.

He returned to Clint, trying to calm his heartrate and taking deep breaths. Steve talked about him 'a lot.' Did that mean he… Bucky shook his head, returning his focus to his work.

But every time they sat people on the right side, his eyes found Steve's. After the second time, he steeled himself and gave him his cockiest, knock-your-pants-off smile and Steve choked on his beer. As he walked the other way, the redhead was smiling at him, nodding.

That night, he left the restaurant at ten-thirty with $137 in tips.

* * *

Spring passed by in a blur, giving way to the heat and humidity of summer. Bucky woke at four in the morning and washed his face, pulled his hair up, and dressed for work at Benny's. He would buy breakfast there and work until noon. Then he would return to the shelter, attend a group, work out, or rush to wash his clothes and dry them before he had to be at Stark at two. He would leave work there around ten-thirty or eleven at night, return to the shelter, shower, and pass out. He didn't consistently work Saturdays at the bakery, but always at Stark. Neither the bakery nor the restaurant was open on Sundays and he spent that day getting errands done and always made sure to go to the gym.

He had been able to schedule several sessions with Maria but they had been short half-hour meetings so he could get to work on time. They hadn't really discussed anything substantial; she asked what his goal was for counseling and he told her he didn't have one yet. She accepted that answer but told him she would ask again.

He had made a point to go to a store and purchase a toothbrush, toothpaste, a good razor, shaving cream, and lotion. He also got a comb, some hair bands, shampoo, and conditioner that smelled good. His hair was getting really long again and he didn't want to cut it, so he thought he might as well make it feel soft.

He had thought, non-stop, about the redhead's words, but he couldn't very well flirt with Steve if they never saw each other. When they did pass by, he didn't even have to try to show Steve how happy he was to see him. His face lit up; he felt himself blush; he bit his lip; and smiled. At first, Steve would just smile and say 'Hey Buck,' but after a few times, he seemed to catch on that Bucky wasn't just being friendly.

On several occasions, Bucky would look up from the bakery case at Benny's to find Steve watching him. He'd order the same thing – a large redeye and a blueberry bagel – and he always ate it at the bakery. Even when they were busy, it seemed he always found an open seat. Sometimes, if they were slow, Bucky would take a break and sit with him. Talking to him became easier; they laughed and even, Bucky thought, flirted.

One Saturday morning, two months after he had moved in, he was bringing his laundry up from the basement when he stopped in the lobby. Steve was there, standing, awkwardly, by the doors, looking at him. "Hey," he said, smiling openly.

"Hey Buck," he said, returning the smile. "Do you… do you want to get some coffee?"

Bucky's smile widened and he nodded, "Let me put my clothes away."

As he walked up the stairs, he noticed that Steve was following him and he began to feel more nervous. His left hand was trembling more than usual as he unlocked his door but it opened, finally, and he stepped inside. He set the bag on the desk, pulling the items out and folding them, quickly; with his back to the door, he could only hear Steve approaching and his entire body lit on fire.

He swallowed, trying to focus on the task at hand. Luckily, he had very few items of clothing, so it was done quickly – unfortunately, that meant that he had to turn around. As he did, he realized that Steve was standing about a foot away; his hands were in his pockets but Bucky could see them balled into fists. He licked his lips meeting Steve's eyes; he was blushing, too, watching Bucky's mouth, and then looking over his face, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle.

Bucky swallowed and said, "Who was the redhead?" He blinked, having no idea where the question came from.

Steve seemed equally startled, stepping back a few inches, and answering, "Her name is Natasha. She's a good friend of mine."

Bucky nodded and smiled, "You ready? I want to buy the coffee."

Steve smiled brightly, nodding; he could see that it was a source of pride that Bucky could do that. "I'd like that, Buck."

They left the shelter, walking side by side down the busy sidewalk. Bucky realized that they were heading to Benny's and smiled. "Do you really like the coffee?"

Steve looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Yes, I do," he said in a mock defensive tone. "And I get to pick where we go."

"Why's that, Stevie?" He asked, chuckling at Steve's sassy tone.

He grinned and replied, "Well, it is my birthday."

Bucky's eyes widened and he all but burst out laughing, "You were born on the 4th of July?"

Steve gave him an annoyed look but Bucky could tell he was trying to his own amusement. He said, "Yes, I was."

Suddenly, he remembered their units laughing and joking with Captain Rogers over a birthday cake. It had red, white, and blue frosting and Bucky had wondered, at the time, how on Earth they had gotten that all the way in Afghanistan. They had written 'Happy Birthday Captain America' on a banner and hung it up. Steve had been a good sport about the whole thing but Bucky could tell he was uncomfortable.

"Well," Bucky said as they approached the bakery. "Happy birthday, Stevie," he said, opening the door and letting Steve go inside first. They approached the counter and Bucky ordered a blended mocha with extra chocolate and Steve chuckled as he ordered his usual drink. As they sat down at a table, Bucky caught him eying the coffee and said, "Do you want to try it?"

Steve chuckled, shrugged, and then leaned forward. Bucky didn't care about sharing a straw; he didn't care about Steve's germs. Watching his lips on the straw was, in fact, the sexiest thing Bucky had seen in a long time.

His face after, not so much. He shook his head, holding his palm to his forehead, whining, "Brain freeze!"

Bucky was laughing and so was Steve; he had tears in his eyes and his cheeks ached, but it felt so good. After their fits died down, Steve was just smiling at him. Bucky was sure that, if Steve was single, this would be a date – and that made him nervous.

But it also made him remember Sharon.

"How are things going?" Bucky asked.

Steve thought for a second before answering, "It depends, I suppose. Work is going well, apart from the high numbers of homeless veterans that are on our waitlist. Everything else is, well…" he hesitated, rubbing his neck and looking out the window. "It could be better," he said, cryptically. Bucky took a drink of his coffee and waited for Steve to continue; he swallowed, playing with the paper on his coffee cup. "My, uh – Sharon," he chuckled at himself, shaking his head. "Why is this so hard?"

Bucky reached over with his left hand without thinking, touching Steve's wrist. Both of their eyes went to that point of contact and he suddenly felt like he was doing something wrong, so he pulled it back. "It's okay, Steve, you don't have to tell me."

Steve shook his head, smiling bitterly. "God, Buck, it used to be good, you know? We used to be good. At least, I thought so."

Bucky leaned back and asked, "What changed?"

Steve laughed in an entirely humorless way and said, "She did, or we both did, I don't know." He looked back out the window as he continued, "About a year ago, I was going to DC to testify before Congress about veteran homelessness. I was supposed to stay three days but the committee adjourned early, so I took the train home." His voice had taken on a different tone – it wasn't the happy Steve; the carefree Steve; it wasn't even Captain Rogers. This was darker. "I got home and she was there, but she was supposed to be at work. The apartment was a mess, clothes, food, Jesus, just… but I thought she had been hurt, maybe robbed, or something. So I'm moving through the place and I finally get to the bedroom." He inhaled a breath, suddenly, and rubbed his face with both hands. "Well, needless to say, she wasn't alone."

Bucky's stomach was in a knot and he clenched his fists; Natasha wasn't trying to help Steve move on or find someone better; she was trying to get Steve to even the score. She didn't give two shits about Bucky or playing matchmaker; this was all about getting Sharon back for what she did. Bucky felt ill, suddenly, and he stood up. Steve looked at him, concerned, and he just said, "I'm just… I don't feel so good. S-sorry, I'm sorry, I have to –" and he ran.

He ran.

* * *

After that, Bucky did his best to avoid Steve. He knew it was childish; Steve had done nothing wrong and didn't deserve it but Bucky couldn't sort out his feelings. He wanted to keep seeing Steve, he wanted to see what would happen, but that made him feel ashamed. He had never cheated and he hadn't been cheated on, to his knowledge, but he knew from friends that it wasn't a good feeling.

Sharon had done wrong, but Steve made the choice to stay with her and it wasn't right for Bucky to insert himself into their lives.

He felt angry that he had thought it was alright up until that moment; his momma raised him better than that. The feeling was too heavy; he wanted to forget. He wanted to find a dealer and get so high he couldn't think straight.

May closed the bakery the last Monday in July to do inventory. She had initially asked him to come in to work for a while, but she told Bucky to just take the day. "You look like you need it," she said, smiling kindly.

"Yeah, I could use it," he agreed. He knew where he needed to go; he just hoped he could.

He returned to the shelter and approached Darcy, waiting as she helped an older veteran. He was twitchy, anxious; shifting from foot to foot. When it was his turn, he just asked, "Is Maria available at all today?"

She was taken aback by his lack of cordiality, but she saw the expression on his face. "Let me call her," she said, calmly, and Bucky nodded, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

After a few moments, Maria came out, smiling, and waved him back. They walked down the corridor and she opened a door at the very end. Inside, he noted the open floor plan, natural light, and several potted plants. She had two brown, cloth lounge chairs sitting in the middle, but not quite facing each other, and a matching couch. "So, Bucky," she began, sitting in one of the lounge chairs and he took the other. "You don't look like you're doing well today," she observed.

"I don't know what to do," he blurted out. "Everything is going right but, at the same time, it's not."

"Tell me how it's going right," she said, helpfully.

He sighed and began, "I was accepted into the program, um, I have a place to stay; I'm working now. I'm clean."

She nodded and asked, "How long have you been sober?"

He thought for a moment and then said, "Fourteen months."

She smiled and nodded, "That's great." She adjusted herself in the chair and asked, "What was the catalyst for you to get clean?"

"I promised," he said, simply.

"Who?"

"It's a long story," he said, looking out her window.

She smiled, opening her hands. "I've got time, Bucky."

He hesitated, swallowing; suddenly he felt anxious. "Um, I –" He took a deep breath and began, "I got out of the military and, uh, came back to my old place and my old life, like it was waiting for me. And it was." He rolled his lips into his mouth, fidgeting. "The drugs, the booze, the guys, it was all just where I'd left it." He swallowed. "I know it wasn't just that my nightmares and flashbacks were bad, you know? I definitely used to help myself forget, yeah, but I also used because I wanted to." This was the hard part, the part that he didn't really like to talk about.

She nodded, "Nightmares are something many veterans struggle with."

"Yeah, at first, I saw the war," he said, wiping his nose. "But they're not connected to my combat experience anymore," he said.

She replied, "Okay, can you talk to me about your nightmares?"

He sighed, rubbing his face. "I don't remember them, usually, but I always wake up and my whole body is, like, clenched. I have to work through to relax enough to get up."

She nodded, "That sounds like sleep paralysis. But you said you usually don't remember your dreams. What do you remember?"

"My friend, Pietro," he said but, as the name came out, it sounded odd for some reason.

"Okay, is he being hurt?"

He nodded and said, "I'm hurting him."

"What are you doing?"

He closed his eyes, fighting the desire to suppress these images, and focused on them, instead. "I'm stabbing him, I think, but it's not a knife in my hand."

"What is it?"

He chewed on his lip for a moment and then said, "It's a needle."

His eyes were still closed but he could hear her shift in her seat. "Bucky, why do you think it's a needle in your dream?"

He clenched his jaw, "I used with him, I –" He stopped, opening his eyes. "The first time he shot up was with me. I… gave it to him."

She nodded and asked, "Where is Pietro?"

Bucky felt tears in his eyes and he brought his left hand up to wipe them. "He's dead."

She hesitated before asking, "Did he overdose?"

He shook his head, "No, it was a car accident."

"Was he high at the time?"

Bucky nodded, "I think so."

"Had you gotten high with him?"

"I think so," he said again.

She cocked her head, "You don't remember." Her tone was not questioning or derogatory, merely factual.

He nodded and said, "I was in the car, I know that, but I hit my head in the accident; my arm got busted up really bad." He lifted his arm to show her the tattoo and the poorly concealed scars, but she had seen them before.

She considered that and asked, "Did you promise your family?"

He shook his head before returning his gaze to the window. "No, my sister, Rebecca, and I haven't spoken in years."

"Then who?"

"Wanda, Pietro's sister," he said, still looking outside.

"Is she your friend?"

He shrugged and said, "She blames me, I know she does. But she said that he made his choices, too. When I woke up in the hospital, she was there with me and she hugged me, but I didn't remember what had happened."

"And you promised her that you would get clean?"

He nodded, "Yeah, she told me he wouldn't want me to end up dead. She told me he would want me to get my life together. I relapsed a couple times after that but Wanda cleaned me up, fed me, and cared for me. She wouldn't let me just feel guilty, she said that was stupid. She said that it was my job to get better." He felt the tears on his cheeks and wiped them again. He gestured to his left shoulder and said, "She helped me design this tattoo."

She nodded her head, "It sounds like she's a friend."

He didn't disagree with her even though he wanted to. "I applied to the program and stayed with her for a short time, then an Army buddy, and then couch-surfed, then lived on the streets. But I never used again."

"What's the last thing you remember from before the accident?"

He hesitated, looking around. "I was at Camp Dwyer," he began, almost in a whisper. "Captain Rogers was comforting me when I got the news that my dad had died."

Her eyes went wide and she said, "Captain Steve Rogers?"

He nodded, "Yeah."

"How much time did you lose?" She sounded startled as she asked.

He thought for a moment, "About eighteen months."

She regarded him, considering her questions. "That's a powerful memory to have. Does it make you feel better being around Steve here?"

He covered his face, suddenly trying to suppress the anxiety that was coming. "It did and, at first, I couldn't really figure out why. But then…" he stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes, realizing that he'd been quietly weeping as he spoke. "I messed up."

She tilted her head to the side, "What do you mean?"

He chewed on his lip. "I always liked him; there was something about him that I was attracted to. But I was sure he was straight, so I just ignored it. But then I ran into him here and memories came back, like the one about my dad." He took a shaky breath. "He told me I saved his life but I don't remember that." He shook his head as if he could shake the memories loose. "His friend, Natasha, told me that I should flirt with him and see what happens. She said he talked about me a lot; she made it seem like he was into me too." He couldn't hide the disappointment from his voice when he added, "But all she was doing was trying to get him to cheat on his girlfriend to get her back for cheating on him."

She looked at him sadly. "Did she tell you that?"

He shook his head, "No, but a couple of weeks ago, he and I went to get coffee and he told me about what happened with Sharon. I put the pieces together."

"Have you spoken with him since then?"

He shook his head, "No, I'm…" he laid his head down in his hands. "I'm a coward."

"Bucky, it's not cowardly to step back when you realize you may be doing the wrong thing."

"But I don't want to," he said. "I want to – I want him. And I want him to want only me."

"But you've been avoiding him?"

He nodded, "Yes. It isn't fair to him, I know that."

"Have you thought about discussing these feelings with him?"

He laughed and nodded, "Yeah, oh yeah, and have it be awkward afterward."

She was considering her words very carefully but asked, "Do you think he reciprocated your advances?"

He looked at her. "I don't know, maybe. But maybe I just wanted him to. I don't know."

"Do you think you should continue making your advances while he is with someone else?"

He shook his head, "No, absolutely not."

"I don't know Steve very well, really, so please don't feel uncomfortable about answering this." She said, "If he ended his relationship, would you continue to pursue him?"

He hesitated, thinking back on his life up to this point. He'd been a shitty son and started doing drugs in high school, but he turned it around when he joined the military. He was a good soldier; he served his country and felt proud to have become a Sergeant. But when he didn't have the structure anymore, the rigorous requirements and discipline, he fell right back into the hole he'd worked so hard to crawl out of, hitting every shameful milestone on his way down.

He'd robbed people, sold himself for money to get high, blown through all of his savings – he'd given up almost all of his dignity and, at his lowest, he hadn't even cared anymore.

It took the death of a dear friend, and the guilt of knowing if it weren't for him, Pietro would still be alive, before Bucky could even see exactly how bad he'd gotten.

Once his options for couch-surfing dissipated, he realized that being a druggy wasn't much different than being homeless. The need to eat was as powerful as the need to get high. He had considered robbing people, stealing purses, even breaking into cars – but he never did.

But he did sell himself. He knew he was attractive and, he learned, there were men who would pay a decent amount of money to get sucked off by a pretty guy. He got quite a bit more if he let them fuck him – which he did.

He didn't even remember how many times he had done it; how many hands had been all over him; how many trips to the free clinic to get tested. Bucky could shower every day and never feel like he had washed that off.

He would bet that Steve remembered; he'd bet that Steve remembered every single partner he'd had. He'd probably never even had to get tested. What would someone like that want with someone like Bucky?

He wiped his eyes again, sniffling, and said, "I don't… I don't think so."

"You went somewhere just now," she said, leaning forward. "You were thinking about something very hard."

He looked out the window again and said, "I was just thinking about the things that I've done."

"You were thinking about the things you've done for drugs or money," she said; he met her eyes for a moment and nodded. "Bucky, before I joined the Air Force, I was an exotic dancer," she said, matter-of-factly. "I didn't just fall into that profession; I stepped into it with open eyes. I did that for three years and there were times when I was offered a lot of money to do more than just dance." He met her eyes, understanding what she was saying. "I said no a lot of the time," she said, nodding her head. "But not every time. I wasn't hurting for money or food, like you were. Do you think I'm undeserving of love?"

He shook his head, "No, of course not."

"My husband, Nick, he knows all about it," she said. "Do you think he loves me less than he would love another woman who hadn't done those things?" He shook his head. "As I said, I don't know Steve well but I know him well enough to know that you should give him the benefit of the doubt."

He bit his lip, processing her words. "I think… I think you're right."

She smiled, "So, again, if he ended his relationship, would you pursue him?"

He swallowed around a dry throat and said, "Yes."

Bucky left Maria's office and walked down the hall; usually the doors were all closed but, as he passed one, he saw Steve sitting at his desk, with his back to the door. He was wearing a blue and white checkered shirt and khakis; he was bent over in his chair, writing. Bucky hesitated, chewing on his lip, before he knocked. Steve turned around, smiling, but when he saw Bucky, that smile faltered.

And Bucky hated it. He hated that he could ever be the reason for that smile to stop shining. "Hey," he said, leaning against the frame, smiling.

"Hi Buck," he replied, unsure.

Suddenly, Bucky realized that he had no reason to be here – he hadn't thought about something that might make this seem normal. "Um," he said, nervously, and then a lightbulb went off in his mind. "The camping trip," he said, hurriedly, "Am I too late?"

He left his question slightly ambiguous on purpose. Steve's mouth had fallen open; he hadn't expected that and Bucky had to suppress the grin that wanted to escape. "No, no," he said, his voice hoarse. "Buck, you're not too late."

He smiled, nodding. "Do I sign up somewhere?"

"Yeah, here," Steve gestured toward the wall where a clipboard was hanging. It was surrounded by drawings but Bucky didn't pay them any attention; he was too nervous. He crossed the room and took it down; there were around ten names on it already. He stepped over to Steve's desk.

Bucky could see that he was blushing and he had to fight himself to keep it together. "Can I borrow a pen, Stevie?"

He tried the nickname out and was not disappointed. Steve's eyes fluttered slightly and he nodded, his Adams apple bobbing as he handed over the pen he had been using. Bucky took it and printed his name on the form.

"So, what is the protocol for the trip?"

Steve smiled as their hands touched when Bucky returned the pen. "We're carpooling; Sam, Maria, and I are all driving separate vehicles. We're bringing tents, sleeping bags, food, and all that. Oh, and," he shrugged, chuckling, "someone always brings beer."

"Do I need to bring anything?" He asked.

Steve shook his head, "Clothes and stuff, but otherwise, no. I mean, unless you want to go fishing or something, you'd have to bring your license and your own tackle."

Bucky nodded, smiling, "Okay, cool."

He was turning to go when Steve reached out and grabbed his right forearm, pulling him until he turned around. Steve stood up and was looking at him with wide, nervous eyes; there was a blush on his cheeks. "Buck, we're… is everything okay? After we had coffee, you, uh…"

Bucky smiled at how nervous Steve was; it made him feel…strangely protective. "Yeah, Stevie, everything's fine." He didn't seem satisfied with that response, though, so Bucky continued. "You know, I've been working a lot and, well, I've had some stuff on my mind."

Steve was looking at him in a decidedly unfriendly way. His lips were parted, slightly, and he held eye contact longer than normal. Bucky was almost sure that look was not one he gave Sam or Natasha. "Is there anything I can do?" Steve asked and the sound of his voice sent Bucky's heart racing because the tone wasn't one he would use with Sam or Natasha.

Steve's blush disappeared into his shirt and Bucky had an intense desire to find out how much of his skin he could get to flush like that. If Steve was single, Bucky would be on his lap right now, kissing him for all he was worth.

But he remembered that Steve wasn't single and, instead, he smiled and said, "Keep coming to see me."

"I can do that," he said, smiling that golden boy smile and returning to his seat.

"I'll see ya," Bucky said, waving as he left the room.

"Bye, Buck," Steve said.

* * *

The following days passed much the same as they had before; Bucky got up at four and arrived at work by five; he would leave there at twelve-thirty and get to Stark by two. He tried to attend groups when he could and he made a point of always hitting the NA group on the weekend. He hadn't been shaving every day, so he had a short beard growing in and his hair was up in a bun, wrapped comfortably. It was long enough to all go up now, rather than having pieces falling out.

Steve came into Benny's a lot more often after they had talked. Bucky wasn't sure but it seemed as though something was definitely different between them. Steve didn't come to Stark but that was much more expensive than a coffee and a bagel, so Bucky wasn't surprised.

One day, Bucky was working the register when a tall man with a shaved head came in. He had dark eyes and smiled easily, but it wasn't a warm smile. It was a smile he had seen on many faces in his past; faces he wanted to forget. This guy was wearing a crisp, black suit and reeked of Wall Street.

"What can I get for you?" Bucky asked, smiling politely.

Wall Street was checking Bucky out rather lewdly; it wasn't one bit subtle but, he could tell that this guy wasn't the type to do anything subtly. "I'll take a triple shot of espresso, iced, with your phone number."

Bucky was looking at the tablet, typing in the order and stopped, pursing his lips. "Um," he said, looking up again. The man held a hand up and reached into his suit jacket, pulling out his wallet; he handed Bucky a $50 bill and a business card. It read Darren Cross Investments and Bucky smirked. "Don't guys like you usually have lowly assistants fetch your coffee?"

Darren chuckled and said, "My lowly assistant decided to go on maternity leave." The way he said it more than suggested that he thought such a concept was disgraceful. "No, the truth is, I've walked by here a few times and've seen you. I thought I'd come in to… try the coffee."

Yeah, right, Bucky thought, but he nodded and smiled. "I hope you like it."

Darren smiled in an entirely impolite way; he was definitely undressing Bucky with his eyes. "I know I will," he said and began stepping aside to wait for his drink.

"Uh, your change," Bucky said, hurrying to get the register open.

"Keep it," he said, smiling and leaning over to read his nametag, "James."

Peter picked up the order and began making the shots of espresso after giving Bucky a look of indignation at the hefty tip. Bucky turned his attention to the next customer and was surprised to find Steve there. He was wearing a tight, gray workout t-shirt made of that soft polyester, and a pair of running shorts.

Jesus, Bucky thought, looking at the expanse of his chest and abs that were absolutely unmistakable. He shouldn't be allowed to go out like that.

Steve approached the counter but he kept looking over at Darren who had hardly looked at anything else but Bucky since he'd entered the bakery. Steve actually looked… angry.

"Hey Stevie," Bucky said with a smile, trying to get his attention. "A redeye?"

"Yeah," Steve grumbled, slamming a $5 bill down. Bucky went for it but Steve shook his head, glaring at Darren. "Actually," he fished in his wallet again and dropped a $10 bill too, "give me that guy's card."

Bucky's eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped. "Steve, what –"

He looked at Bucky and said, "The card, give it to me." But he turned his attention back to Darren and Bucky felt his body flush. Was Steve jealous?

He wanted to say that this was not new; he wanted to say that he'd dealt with guys like that on the streets and he could do it now. But he knew that saying anything like that would make this worse.

"Steve, it's okay," he said, calmly and in a low tone.

He could actually see the way Steve's skin became splotchy with rage; his jaw was clenching and his hair was falling into his face. He didn't look like Steve; well, not the clean-cut, all-American boy that everyone saw. He definitely didn't look like Captain America. This was more of that darkness that Bucky had seen a glimpse of before.

Steve looked back at him and Bucky gulped.

Steve looked like he wanted to slam Bucky against the nearest wall and fuck him hard enough to leave bruises, all while Darren watched. He looked like he wanted to mark Bucky up, make it so everyone knew he wasn't to be looked at or spoken to that way, make sure everyone knew Bucky was his.

Bucky licked his lips, suppressing the intense desire that thought brought on, and dropped the card on top of Steve's $10 bill, pushing it back toward him. "Here," he breathed, hoarsely. "Okay?"

Steve stared at it, his chest heaving under that tight shirt, and Bucky felt his heart pounding. He grabbed the card and the bill before he walked over to Darren. He was tall but Steve was just a bit taller and wider in all the ways that counted, but they stared each other down.

Bucky was watching, helplessly, but Steve merely handed the card back. "Sorry. He's not interested in investing," he said, calmly.

Darren's lips pulled down and he nodded his head, taking the card; he looked as if he was accepting what Steve had said. "Okay," he said, meeting Steve's glare again with a cocked eyebrow and grin. "But I wasn't going to invite him to my place to discuss investments."

Bucky's eyes widened at the comment. Steve's shoulders were squared, like he might lose it at any moment. Just then, May set both of their drinks on the bar and said, "Here you go, boys! Thanks for coming in today!" Her voice was stern and irate, but sounded polite and friendly and Bucky couldn't even begin to understand how she did it.

Both men were startled and took a moment to collect themselves before grabbing their respective drinks. They both seemed to realize what almost happened. Darren left without a glance at Bucky – which was no loss – but Steve turned to him; the look on his face made Bucky's chest ache. Steve was ashamed, embarrassed by his actions, and very confused. But he didn't attempt to speak to Bucky either; he rushed out of the bakery without looking back.

May approached Bucky at the register and he turned, still in shock. "May, I'm really sorry, that –"

"Was one of those guys your boyfriend?" She asked, sympathetically.

He shook his head and gulped, "No."

She nodded and smiled at him, "I think they both wanted to be."

Peter laughed, "They wanted something like that."

"Peter!" She admonished, but as she turned her back to him, she cracked a smile. The day returned to normal after that.

* * *

The rest of July went by, more or less, quietly and August began much the same. He and Steve hadn't spoken much since the incident at the bakery; this time it was Steve who was avoiding him. Bucky had gone to a few secondhand stores and bought some new clothes; some more work pants and shirts, as well as some better-fitting jeans, a new pair of boots, more t-shirts, and tons of socks and underwear. He also purchased some swimming trunks, sunscreen, a pair of comfortable brown sandals, and bug spray for the camping trip. He even found some decent shorts.

He was saving every dollar from his paychecks and almost all of his tips. The wad had quickly become too big for his aspirin bottle and he asked Sam for his advice. That day, he took Bucky to a small credit union near the shelter; he said that a lot of the vets had gotten started there because the accounts were no-fee. Bucky hadn't had a checking or savings account in more than a year, but it felt good to know that no one could steal his bag and he'd have nothing. He'd be happy to never feel that way again.

On the day of the camping trip, he packed his canvas bag with the new clothes he'd bought, his toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as his comb. His hair was past his shoulders and he had fun styling it, so he brought hairbands too. After some consideration, he also grabbed his pillow and stuffed it inside. He was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a blue V-neck t-shirt, his new boots, and he had pulled his hair up.

After fastening the clasps on the canvas bag, he lifted it with his right arm and started down the stairs toward the lobby. Lots of the vets he had seen around were waiting there with their own bags. He took a seat and set his bag on the floor between his legs, waiting. Everyone was supposed to be ready to go by seven that morning because the trip would take around five or six hours.

"Hey," a deep voice said and Bucky looked over to find Brock Rumlow sitting next to him. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Bucky smiled and said, "Yeah, I got a couple jobs."

Brock nodded, "That's awesome, man."

"Are you going on the trip?"

Brock shook his head, "Nah, I have to work. But I hope you have a good time," he said, standing up and heading for the stairs.

"Bye," Bucky waved.

"Alright, everyone," Maria's voice caught his attention and he turned back to the doors. "This group on the left will travel with Sam; the middle group with travel with me; and the right side," she looked at Bucky with a bit of sympathy but wiped it from her features quickly. "You're going with Steve."

Bucky looked at the other three people who were going to be sharing a vehicle with him; he had never met any of them but he smiled and they all shook hands.

"I'm Gabriel Jones," the tall, black man said.

"I'm Dino Manelli," the average sized man with jet black hair and a mustache said.

"I'm Izzy Cohen," the fit, brunette man said.

"I'm James Barnes, but call me 'Bucky.'"

They all walked out and Maria pointed them to an SUV with its hatch open. They all walked over and Bucky's heart was pounding; what if Steve didn't want him to ride with him? There were already things inside: there were two tents, five sleeping bags, a large cooler, and Steve's own bag. Bucky let the others put their bags in first; he was holding his own in both hands to ease the weight on his left arm. He was waiting to see if Steve would show up when, suddenly, he felt a hand pat his shoulder and he turned, startled, to find Steve there. He was wearing a tight, white t-shirt and some gray cargo shorts.

"Here, Buck," he smiled and grabbed the canvas bag from Bucky's hands and hoisted it into the back, on top of a cooler and the others' bags.

He stepped forward to protest, "I could've –"

"I know," Steve interrupted, smiling. "I wanted to do it." He turned to the others and said, "Anyone get carsick?" Bucky looked at the others before raising his hand, slowly. "You need to be up front or in back?"

He didn't want Steve to think he was only saying it to be able to sit with him but he said, "Up front. If that's okay," he added, checking with Izzy, Gabe, and Dino.

"That's fine," Izzy answered and the other two nodded.

"Alright, guys, let's get on the road," Steve said, walking around the vehicle and getting into the driver's seat.

Everyone piled in; it was a three row SUV, so they all had room, especially Izzy, who was stretched out in the back, reading almost immediately. Gabe made conversation for a short time, but eventually they all went silent and Steve turned the radio up. It was a jazz station, which surprised Bucky.

The drive was long; they chatted on and off, but eventually, Bucky looked back and all three of them were asleep. Suddenly he realized that he was practically alone with Steve and everything inside of him felt on edge. He took a shaky breath and glanced over; Steve was looking at him too.

Bucky bit his lip, nervously; he couldn't recall a time when he had been this high-strung just by someone's presence. But Steve was shifting and fidgeting too; his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed deeply. Christ, Bucky thought, you can cut the tension with a knife.

"Is it…" He whispered, but hesitated to finish.

Steve waited another moment before asking, "Is it what?" He was also whispering.

Bucky exhaled and said, "Is it okay that I'm riding with you?"

Steve considered the question, looking over at him longer than Bucky would have liked for him to, considering that he was driving. Steve took a deep breath of his own and said, "I'm happy you're riding with me, Buck."

Bucky exhaled a long breath and nodded, "Okay, I was… I wasn't sure you would be."

Steve hesitated for a moment and then reached his arm over, touching Bucky's left shoulder. "I wanted to… apologize for what happened."

Bucky shook his head, "You don't need to, Steve."

"But I do," he said, returning his arm to the center console. "I was out of line but that guy, he was so – and you –"

"It's okay, Steve," he whispered, emphasizing the word. "It happens sometimes –" But the moment the words tumbled out, he regretted it.

"It happens sometimes," Steve repeated, his voice taking on a new quality.

Bucky sighed and said, "Steve, I'm, well, I'm not being cocky, but I'm a fairly attractive guy and people notice." He was trying to be flippant about it, trying to show Steve that he could handle it, and it wasn't a big deal, but his mouth was already a hard line. "But it's only guys like that who act that way," he added, quickly. "That was the first time at the bakery that someone outright said they wanted to take me home," he chuckled.

Steve's face was unreadable and he kept his eyes intent on the road. "First time there," he repeated.

Bucky nodded his head, deciding it was best if he stopped talking for a while. They continued in silence for some time; he glanced over and saw that Steve's hand was clenched in a fist on the center console. Bucky was content to sit out the rest of the ride in silence, not because he didn't want to talk to Steve, but because he was nervous about what he might let slip.

Would he tell him how it turned him on to see the way he reacted that day? Would he mention how he thought about Steve when he was alone in the shower? Would he tell him that he was an addict who killed his best friend? Would he tell him that, even if Sharon had cheated on him, she was worth more than Bucky?

She was probably worth ten Buckys.

Steve broke the silence first, though. "Buck, can I ask you a personal question?" He still spoke quietly.

Bucky looked in the back at the three men, making sure they were still asleep before he said, "Yeah, sure."

Steve looked at him for a moment, then returned his eyes to the road. "Do you, um, are you… Do you date women?"

That was safest way to ask if Bucky was into guys, he thought. "Yes, but I, uh, prefer men."

Steve nodded his head. "Are you dating anyone?"

Bucky's heart was back to pounding, loud and heavy in his chest. "Um, no, I'm not."

"Why not?" Steve asked, curious.

"That's three questions," Bucky said, chuckling and Steve smiled too. He leaned back and sighed before going on. "The truth is there hasn't been anyone who was interested in me. I mean, I get, uh, offers like that guy's, but no one has asked me on a date in a long time."

Steve seemed to think about his answer for a while before he responded. "Why don't you ask them?"

Bucky looked out the window to avoid Steve's glances. He took a deep breath and began to speak but Izzy spoke up first, "Hey, can we stop?"

Steve nodded, checking the rearview mirror, "Yeah, there's a gas station up here I'm going to stop at. We can grab some food there, too."

"That sounds divine," Izzy said, sitting up and opening his book again.

* * *

After they hit the gas station, it took another hour to arrive at their destination. They all got out of the car and stretched, groaning at their tense muscles from having been in the car for so long. Sam's group was there already and Maria pulled up not long after.

The grounds were beautiful; it was plush and green and they were right next to the lake. There were other campers; some tents, a couple campers, and RVs.

They all walked to the back of the SUV to get the stuff to set up the area. Steve handed out one tent to Izzy and another to Gabe; he pulled his bag out of the hatch, which had a third tent attached. Bucky looked at the others and saw that Gabe and Dino were setting up one tent and Izzy began setting up his. He walked over to Izzy to begin helping him set up, since he assumed they would be sharing, but Steve tapped him. "That tent is pretty small and only fits, like, one and a half people. You can bunk with me."

He looked up and Izzy said, smiling, "I've got this, man, but thanks."

He nodded, standing and following Steve to an area away from the others, though not too far. Bucky watched as Steve pulled the pieces out of his tent bag and they set to attaching needed pieces and sliding the rods into the sleeves. After barely ten minutes, their tent was standing, and they stuck the stakes into the ground to keep it in place. Steve asked him to go get the sleeping bags and he walked back to the SUV, popping open the hatch and grabbing the last two sleeping bags. He pulled his canvas bag over his right shoulder and wrapped his arms around them, one under each armpit. Steve smiled at him as he returned and he walked over to take the item from Bucky's left arm.

He wanted to protest but it really had been shaking pretty badly and he'd been worried it might give out. Steve unrolled the sleeping bags inside the tent and Bucky put his bag inside.

"You should get into some shorts," Steve suggested and, as Bucky turned around, he caught Steve eying his ass, grinning.

He blushed and nodded, sitting inside the tent with his feet on the grass still to pull his boots off. He slid into the tent when his feet were bare and zipped the opening shut. He dug through the canvas bag, pulling out his pillow and finding his shorts, sunscreen, and sandals. He changed quickly and got out, spraying sunscreen on his arms and legs, then putting some on his face.

A short time later, all of the tents were up and people were sitting near the barbeque pit, talking. It looked like as many as twenty residents were in attendance, as well as the three staff. They had the fire going, already, and were cooking some hot dogs, making Bucky's stomach growl. "Bucky," Sam called, smiling, "come on over and get some grub, man."

He nodded, walking over and sitting in a camp chair that wasn't in use. Sam was standing with Maria; he was dressed in a light green t-shirt and blue and green swimming trunks, with black sunglasses on. Maria had her brown hair down and was wearing a pair of aviators; she had short jean shorts on and a blue halter top with a light blue button up over it. Steve went to stand by them and called everyone to attention.

Maria said, "Okay, everyone, as you all can see, the lake is right there. Now, this isn't some scheduled trip with groups and hiking trips. We're here to enjoy ourselves, within reason." Maria began getting paper plates out of bags and pulled several bags of hot dog buns out of a cooler.

"So," Sam took over, "You can go swimming, you can go hiking, you can do whatever. If you go hiking, please don't go alone. There're a lot of trails around here but there is always the possibility of injury."

Steve stepped forward, "If you want to do something, also, let us know so we can see if others want to join you."

Sam raised his hand and said in a loud voice, "I'm goin' to the lake! Who's with me?" Around fifteen others agreed, shouting along with him and raising their hands. Sam and the others began walking toward the beach.

Bucky got up and went over to where Maria was and took a plate to get himself some food. "Are you going to swim?" She asked, smiling.

He smiled back but shook his head, "I might go later."

She nodded, using the tongs to get a hotdog for him. "I'm going to get in when it's at its hottest."

"I'll probably do the same," he agreed, grabbing a bag of chips.

"Mind if I eat with you?" She asked, smiling and he shook his head. They sat at the picnic table, enjoying the quiet. "I'm not really your counselor right now, but I sort of am," she said, glancing over at Steve. "How was the drive?"

He looked around, noting that Steve was talking with a couple of guys who had brought their fishing poles and tackle and were heading toward the lake. He licked his lips and said, "It was weird." He chuckled then, opening his bag of chips, grabbing one and eating it. "He's kind of, I don't know," he said, thinking. She was observing him, eating her food, and allowing him the time and space to think about and process it. "He really doesn't like the idea of people hitting on me," he chuckled, nervously.

She considered that for a moment before asking, "Do you think it's that he doesn't like them hitting on you, or that he worries you'll flirt back?"

Bucky considered that for a few minutes, looking over at Steve. "He asked me if I'm seeing anyone," he finally said, rubbing his neck.

She looked at him and said, "Bucky, I know you have feelings for him, but I want you to remember something." He waited, listening, and she took a deep breath. "If he is as unhappy in his relationship as I have been led to believe – and don't repeat that, ever, because sharing that was inappropriate," she said, pointing at him. "But, if he is, then he needs a friend, but he may reach out to you for comfort, emotionally or physically." She sighed, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair, causing the brown strands to bunch up, and she fixed him with her gaze. "He won't mean to hurt you, Bucky; hell, he may not even realize how selfish he is being, but after he feels better… you'll still be alone."

That hurt to hear and she had known it would – she had tried to soften the blow and give it to him easy, but there was only so much she could do. He bit his lip, looking in Steve's direction and he said, "If I need to, can I… would it be inappropriate to share your tent? If I need to?"

She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "I have a big tent."

He resumed eating his food and nodded, "Thank you."

"I hope you don't need it, Bucky," she said, doing the same.

* * *

They cleaned up and he helped go through the bags and coolers to locate water bottles, juice, and he found the beer, but he moved on. Then they went through the food and found the items for s'mores. By that time, it was almost four and he was sweating, heavily; Maria patted his shoulder and said, "Let's get in the water!"

He went to the tent to change, leaving his sandals outside. He found his trunks and removed his shirt, but as he was unzipping his shorts, the tent was opened and Steve was there. "Steve!" He gasped, holding his shorts closed.

Steve had his hand over his eyes, "Sorry!"

Bucky swallowed, waiting for him to zip it back up, but he didn't. "Steve," he said again.

"Hmm?" He responded.

"Come on, Steve," he said, just a hint of a whine in his voice. "Close the thing so I can change."

"I need to change too," he argued.

"Oh my God, Steve," he grumbled. "I'm almost done."

"Fine," he replied, pulling the zipper.

As Bucky waited to make sure he was safe, he heard footsteps approaching in the grass. "Steve," Maria's voice came on and he thanked her, silently, and hurried to get out of his shorts. "Did you have the snack cooler in your car or did Sam?" She was stalling and he knew it but he already had his trunks halfway up his thighs and pulled his shirt back on, sweaty as it was.

"Um, I'm not sure," Steve answered as Bucky unzipped the doorway, and walked past him.

"It's okay," she replied, waving. "Bucky, let's get in the water!" She was wearing her shorts still but had on a solid red one piece with a bow on the belly. He smirked at it and she chuckled along, saying, "Hurry up."

As they walked away, Bucky looked back and saw Steve disappear into the tent and he said, "Thanks."

She smiled but said, warningly, "I can't always be there."

He only nodded and they continued walking to the beach where Sam and a few of those who had followed him were playing a game of volley ball with other campers. She dropped her towel on the beach and Bucky cursed at himself for not bringing on.

She noticed and said, "I brought a bunch. Last year, no one had any and it was a nightmare." He smiled and glanced around, self-consciously, before he pulled his t-shirt off and left it next to her towel.

"I didn't know you had so many tattoos," she said, looking over his torso.

Bucky nodded, "I have six, total." He sprayed sunscreen on and rubbed it into his skin.

Maria was fearless; she ran and leapt off the dock into the water while Bucky waded in, slowly, allowing himself to adjust to the chill. She emerged, laughing happily, as he was finally mostly submerged in the water.

After a while, he got out and she told him where he could get a towel from. After he grabbed it, he also stopped by the tent to pick out a book to read. Then he returned to the lakeside and laid out his towel far enough away from the group playing volleyball to be safe. As he rested on his stomach, reading, he could hear so much activity around him, but the setting was tranquil and calm.

It wasn't like the city where it was noise, noise, noise, noise twenty four-seven. He was hearing people but also the sounds of nature; the birds tweeting, the trees in the wind, the water, and the bugs chirping. He felt like he could breathe – really breathe.

"Hey, man," Sam called, "Bucky, we're gonna get dinner going."

He looked up and nodded, realizing that the sun had moved further west and he was really hungry again. "Awesome," he said, standing up and grabbing his shirt and towel.

He went to the tent again and grabbed the shorts that he had worn earlier. He took them and the towel to the campground bathroom in hopes of avoiding another incident. The bathroom was usable; he'd slept in a few like it, so he didn't pay too much attention to the smell or look. He changed his clothes and walked back to the tent to lay the towel and his trunks on the grass. There wasn't a hint of wind but as the sun had gotten lower, it had begun to cool down. His shirt had dried in the sun and, while it had some sand on it, he continued to wear it.

He approached the group of camp chairs placed around the grill. He looked up and saw that there are burger patties cooking; his mouth watered and he tried to recall the last time that he had eaten a fresh cheeseburger. He waited patiently, sitting in a camp chair and looking around at the others. Most of them were in conversations of their own and he wondered who he might be able to talk to. He had felt comfortable with Maria and looked around to find her but she was nowhere to be seen. He began to stand up but a solid hand landed on his right shoulder and he jumped, turning to see Steve.

"Sorry," he said, taking his hand away. "Sorry, Buck, I wasn't thinking." He shook his head and Steve sat down in the chair next to him. He was surprised, because when he'd looked at it earlier, someone was sitting there. "Did you have a good time by the lake?" He asked, smiling.

Bucky nodded, pushing down the idea that Steve had been watching him. "Yeah, I'm surprised I didn't get a sunburn," he said.

"I burn really bad, so I have to wear a lot of sunscreen," Steve replied, conversationally.

Bucky was nervous; he had been nervous about being around Steve for weeks but he remembered the ease with which they got to know one another. He liked Steve a lot and enjoyed spending time with him.

"I can get your back… if you need…" Bucky said, feeling foolish.

Steve nodded, approvingly, "That would be great. Tomorrow, there's going to a boat tour. You should go," he smiled.

Me and you, stuck in the middle of a lake for who-knows-how-long? He thought, staring at the way the flames lit Steve's skin and made his eyes glisten. "Sure, if there's space."

He smiled, happily, and said, "I'm sure there will be."

Bucky bit his lip and Sam called out, "Okay, burgers are ready."

They both stood and got in line for dinner; when he had his food, he sat down in the chair he had been in before. He ate quickly and quietly and, when he was done, he took his plate to the trash. He used a paper napkin to wipe his face and tossed that away too.

The sky was a wash of pinks, oranges, and blues and he walked to the beach to sit and stare at the changing colors. It was incredibly beautiful to him. When he was homeless, he saw sunsets all the time but it mostly brought on a sense of dread, especially in the cold months. If the sun was down, how would he stay warm? In the dark, how could he protect himself or his stuff?

But now, as he sat in the newest clothes he had owned in years, on a vacation with people he liked, he looked at it with a sense of reverence.

He heard footsteps and tried not to hope that it was Steve, but failed; he glanced up and saw him, tall and glorious, looking down at him. "Hey," he said, sitting down on the beach too.

Bucky smiled, looking at him without considering what his expression was saying; he couldn't make himself care. If Steve liked him and wanted to pursue something, Bucky would be happy; if Steve liked him, but stayed with Sharon and they simply remained friends, Bucky would be happy. He recognized that the ball was in Steve's court; it had been for a while.

"I was just thinking," Bucky said, swallowing and turning his attention back to the sunset. "When I was homeless, I stopped appreciating beauty. A sunset became a source of worry, knowing it would be cold and I had only my coat and a ratty blanket, or worrying my stuff would get stolen." As he spoke, Steve's expression became softer, affectionate even. "But it shouldn't be like that," he said, as the pinks turned to violet and the blues darkened. "Something beautiful should never be something to be afraid of."

He looked back at Steve and found that he was staring back with such a thoughtful expression. He smiled and said, "You're right, Buck. We should never be afraid of something like that." His voice was quiet, pensive, and Bucky smiled.

They stayed there until the sunset faded into the night sky and remained there, lying on their backs, looking at the stars. They talked and laughed and he would look over at Steve to find him staring back. He was nervous and Maria's words remained in his mind but he wanted to have these moments with Steve.

If he never got to have another moment like this; if their relationship began and ended with the program; if Steve and Sharon got married; Bucky would have these memories to cherish. He knew what it felt like to lose memories and he wondered at the indifferent way people made new ones. If they could know, too, the confusion and disorientation of missing time, maybe they would be grateful to be able to experience their lives knowing that they could keep it all with them.

At some point, he and Steve crawled into the tent; Bucky removed his shorts and shirt under the cover of his sleeping bag while Steve undressed as if he weren't even there. He covered his eyes, politely, and Steve chuckled at him. "Such a gentleman," he whispered, crawling into his own sleeping bag.

Bucky chuckled and whispered, "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

Steve didn't respond and, shortly thereafter, Bucky fell asleep.

* * *

The light coming through the tent was warm as Bucky steadily returned to consciousness. He could hear the birds chirping and the water of the lake; there were voices around but they were quiet and probably far away. He felt a little uncomfortable from sleeping on the hard ground all night, but he also felt like he hadn't slept that well in a long time. He began to stretch but found that he was pressed against something; he also felt a weight around his middle that he couldn't account for in his sleep-addled brain. He opened his eyes and yawned before looking around to find… Steve.

Steve was pressed against his back with his arm around his waist. Steve was holding him. He was partly asleep still but was quickly waking up and trying to figure out how to get up without waking him. He tried to move his arm but Steve just cuddled closer, pressing his nose into the back of Bucky's neck and making him shiver. The arm had also become tighter around his middle and he could see no way out without waking Steve and he didn't know what would happen if he did.

His breathing had picked up and he knew that, any moment, Steve would awaken. He heard Steve grumble in his sleep and, then, he felt Steve's body tense up. Bucky shut his eyes, choosing to pretend that he was still sleeping and let Steve sort himself out. Slowly, the arm moved and then, after a moment, the body followed suit. He waited a few moments, listening as Steve seemed to simply move over to the other side of the tent and lie back, and then Bucky pretended to stir, sleepily.

He sat up a bit, realizing that he was just in his boxers and hesitated before glancing over at Steve. His eyes were open but he was staring upward, not really seeing anything in particular. "Morning," Bucky said and reached out to grab his bag and pulled it up to him, pulling out his toothbrush, toothpaste, another pair of shorts, and a clean shirt.

"Morning," Steve replied; his voice was distant and, when Bucky looked over, he was still staring off into space.

Bucky pulled the shirt on and then tried to pull the shorts on without getting out of the sleeping bag. Once he was dressed, he stood up; he felt pain in his muscles from where he had slept, but it was a familiar pain. He unzipped the tent into a bright, beautiful, warm world of green and blue. The air smelled clean and fresh; he stepped into his sandals and walked to the bathroom. There was a line and he waited, patiently.

Once his turn was up, he stepped inside and rinsed his face off and pulled his hair out of its bun. He combed it out and left it while he used the bathroom and brushed his teeth. When he stepped out, there were others in line and he nodded to them as he walked past. There were some people around the barbecue pit already and Bucky saw that they had a couple of those metal coffee percolators on there.

Maria saw him coming and waved him over to sit next to her and Sam, which he did. They had been talking to some other attendees and he sat, listening. Sam leaned over to see him past Maria and said, "Bucky, I had no idea your hair was so long, man!"

He smiled, tucking it behind his ear and nodding; he looked around and noticed that several of the others were watching him, waiting for his response. "I used to cut it myself but it got too tedious when I was homeless," he replied, seeing several of the others nod their heads in agreement. "But now I actually like it."

Maria nodded, "I do too. More and more men are wearing their hair long." She leaned over, smiling conspiratorially, and whispered, "Too bad my husband shaves his head."

The group chuckled and Sam gestured to Bucky again. "I saw your ink yesterday, Bucky," he said. "I knew you had the one on your arm but I had no idea you had so many others." He was smiling as he pulled his t-shirt sleeve up, exposing a USAF tattoo that Bucky imagined Sam shared with his unit. "This is all I got."

Bucky smiled, "That's awesome, Sam."

For a moment, the others showed off their own tattoos before everyone returned to their own conversations. Maria turned to him and asked, pointedly, "How was your night?"

He glanced around and saw that no one was paying them any mind. He replied, "We stayed up late, talking, and went to bed."

She nodded, smiling, "Good talk?"

He nodded back, "I, uh, I think so. But this morning –"

"Coffee's ready!" Sam called, pulling out a sleeve of paper cups and handing them out. Maria and Bucky took one and Gabe came around, pouring some in each person's cup. Bucky usually took cream and sugar in his and, when he looked over, a container of dry vanilla creamer was being passed around, as well as a regular one. He poured some in his cup and passed it on, noticing a package of plastic silverware on the picnic table.

When he returned with a spoon and slightly dark caramel colored coffee, he offered the utensil to Maria and she accepted it. "Thanks," she said. "As you were saying?"

He sat in the chair and sighed, rubbing his neck. "He was… we were, kind of, you know… uh, cuddling," he whispered, quietly, leaning close to her. "I tried to scoot away but I didn't want him to wake up and for it to be, I don't know… weird, or anything. But when he finally woke up and pulled away, I looked over and he was just staring off into space."

"So, it was weird regardless," she observed and he nodded. "Bucky, when you realized that you were attracted to men," she continued, quietly, "was it an easy realization?"

He thought back; he remembered the looks on his parents' faces and how they were convinced it was 'just a phase.' He remembered how they had mocked him and joked about Don't Ask, Don't Tell when he joined the Army. He bit his lip and shook his head, "No, not particularly."

She nodded and said, "So, for him, it could be strange and confusing, maybe even unsettling. You said that, when you were stationed together, he was clearly interested only in women, right?" He nodded and she went on, "So, I imagine that, for someone who has been in a serious relationship with a woman for some time – and has only had relationships with women, that the realization of attraction to a man could be… difficult." He wanted to roll his eyes at the pervasion of toxically masculine stereotypes and when she saw his face, she added, "Bucky, it shouldn't be; it should never be an issue for any of us, but, for some people, it can be."

He nodded his understanding and swallowed his irritation; they drank their coffee in silence after that and Bucky caught sight of Steve heading toward the bathroom a short time later. He wondered why he'd been in the tent for so long after waking, but he didn't think much of it. After a while, there were scrambled eggs and sausage and Bucky chugged a bottle of water, and ate a plateful of food.

Sam came to him a while later and said, "You want to go on the boat ride, right?"

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, if there's room."

Sam nodded, smiling, "Hell yeah, man. It's going to be at eleven." Then he walked off to talk to others about it.

It was only around eight in the morning, so Bucky went to the tent and found some socks and his boots. He sprayed sunscreen and bug spray on, then went to the map board that gave information on the hiking trails. He decided on a shorter hike, one that would go to a view of the lake from above, and he oriented himself. As he was heading toward the tree line where the trail started, he heard footsteps coming toward him quickly and he turned. Steve was on his heels, smiling. He was wearing a white polyester exercise shirt and grey shorts, as if he were about to go for a run.

"Hey Buck," he said, stopping in front of him. "Do you mind if I join you?"

He was surprised as this attitude was completely counter to the one he had received earlier, but he nodded. "Uh, sure."

"I haven't seen your hair down in a while," he said, thoughtfully.

"I have a lot of hair and it gets hot," Bucky explained, taking that moment to pull it up.

They continued walking toward the trailhead, in silence. They'd said a few words on the way up: "Careful there," "Mind the tree," "Look overhead," and "Check that out;" but they hadn't spoken as they had the night before. He was not uncomfortable with the silence, though, and he felt that it helped him ignore that Steve was behind him, possibly watching him.

Bucky had been working out regularly for more than two months and eating three meals a day, sometimes more; he was filling out and getting stronger. He could see it in his muscle definition and feel it in his stamina. He felt proud and, at that moment, didn't care if Steve was staring at his ass.

Steve was in excellent shape, Bucky saw, and they climbed their way to the top of the trail easily within forty minutes. Looking out over the lake, seeing their campsite, and seeing how far they had come made Bucky grin, happily. He was sweating and his breathing was a bit awry but the accomplishment outweighed everything. "I haven't hiked in years," he admitted. "Maybe not even since Afghanistan."

Steve smiled and nodded, "There isn't much hiking in the city." They both laughed, catching their breath. "Yeah, I don't usually hike on these trips. Sometimes one person will want to go but I think it's mostly the peace and quiet that the vets come on the trip for."

Bucky looked over at him, "What do you come for?"

Steve regarded him for a moment and said, "Sometimes, I need a break." Bucky waited for him to elaborate, looking out at the view. There were mountains and they could still see some snow in the high elevations. "Work trips like this are, kind of, the only time… I mean, Sharon can't invite herself along."

Bucky nodded, wanting to ask more questions but not knowing if it would make Steve shut down or not. He simply said, "Breaks are important."

Steve observed him, silently, for a time and said, "You want to know about her, don't you?"

Bucky took a deep breath and shook his head, "No, I don't want to know about her. I want to know about you."

Steve smiled, sheepishly, looking down and squinting from the sun's early morning rays. "Why I stayed?"

Bucky looked at him. "Steve, I won't ask if you don't want to talk about it. You barely know me, I just…" He sighed, dropping his head. "Never mind, it's not my place."

Steve turned to face him fully and said, "I want it to be your place." Bucky gulped, meeting his eyes. "I mean, I, uh," he stuttered, rubbing his forehead. "I just meant I want you to feel like we can talk."

Bucky suddenly felt like he was walking up a steep incline, his heart was beating so hard. I want it to be your place, he said. That made him shiver, even if his entire body felt hot from the sunshine and the exertion.

He licked his lips and nodded, "Okay."

Steve nodded too, "Okay."

Bucky took a deep breath and looked over the lake again, trying to put the words together in his mind. "You're… Jesus, Steve, you're kind and generous and driven; you're gorgeous and you could be making so much money being a model, or some shit, and you work for the VA as a mental health counselor." He had begun gesturing toward Steve with his hands, almost haphazardly; he felt the blush on his cheeks and the way his breathing had picked up. "You could have anyone you wanted and I don't know Sharon, or the history, or anything, but I know that you," he paused, looking Steve in the eye. "You deserve someone as incredible as you are." He took a moment to breathe, slowly and deeply, letting his gaze drop to the rocky ground.

He was biting his lip when he finally glanced up and found Steve staring at him with wide eyes and deep pink cheeks. He said, "Wow, Buck," in a breathy tone. He rubbed the back of his neck, dropping his gaze to the ground. They both stood that way for some time, suddenly finding their own shoes quite interesting. "What about you?" Steve asked, suddenly.

"What?" Bucky replied, his head shooting up. That's not what he meant, he assured himself.

Steve's blush had spread down his neck and into his shirt. "I mean, why don't you have someone?"

"Oh," Bucky said, nodding and feeling completely foolish. "I told you, no one's asked me."

Steve took a small step closer, looking over his face. "Why don't you ask?"

Bucky held his gaze, nervously biting his lip, and said, "Maybe it's more complicated than that."

Steve stared back with a growing understanding in his eyes and Bucky's mind was swirling; he felt like he was driving toward a cliff and the breaks weren't working. The attraction that he'd always had was developing into something more. He could feel it but he could do nothing about it.

"We should go back now," Bucky said, suddenly, and turned to go but a hand grabbed his left forearm. He suppressed the instinct to jerk it away, but he couldn't ease the tension that spread through his shoulders.

"Bucky," Steve said, still holding his arm. "Thank you. For what you said."

He looked over his should and nodded as Steve released his arm and they began the trek back down. They didn't speak a word the whole way. It went quickly and when they returned, Bucky grabbed a bottle of water and chugged it down. Steve hesitated for a moment before wandering off toward the bathroom. It was after ten by then and Bucky changed back into his swimming trunks and applied more sunscreen.

As he was rubbing his scruffy beard, he saw a white and blue passenger boat coming toward the dock. He saw Sam and Maria walking toward it, waving at the driver. He stood and began walking over when Steve was suddenly at his side. "I'm glad you're coming along, Buck," he said, smiling.

Bucky smiled back, "I've never been on a boat, other than the ferry to the Statue of Liberty in, like, fourth grade."

Steve laughed and said, "I don't have the opportunity to get on 'em much, either."

The group stood waiting as the driver – a tall, older man with a bright blue Mohawk – stepped off to speak with Sam and Maria. Steve walked over to join them and the driver was clearly surprised by his size. "Whoa, man!" He said, loudly; he was extremely animated and energetic as he spoke. He had an accent – southern, Bucky thought, though he couldn't determine a specific state. "Boy, you're lucky you're so big, these other guys might eat ya!" He laughed as if the comment were the most hilarious thing he'd heard in years. "Alright, I'm Yondu," he said, shaking each of their hands. "Usually my son, Peter, does this tour, but his girlfriend's all green and sick, so he asked me to take over."

Maria was laughing but Bucky thought it was mostly at the ridiculousness of the situation. They continued talking and Yondu spoke loudly the entire time. "Come on, let's get on board!"

Bucky was actually surprised when everyone fit on the boat, though he realized that there were quite a few who stayed behind. He found a seat and took it, feeling the excitement of something unfamiliar. "Is this seat taken?" Steve asked, gesturing to the spot next to him, and Bucky shook his head.

"Alright," Yondu's voice came over the speaker, "we're gonna get a move on here, so everyone should take a seat." After a moment, the engine turned on and revved; suddenly they moved slowly away from the dock and Bucky felt nervous anticipation. "This lake is…" Yondu began the tour spiel but Bucky wasn't listening; he was leaning over to see the water change colors as it got deeper and they moved away from the sandy beach. He was looking at the wildlife and pointing out birds to Steve that he'd never seen the likes of before. Steve was watching Bucky with an expression he couldn't figure out.

His arm was pressed against Steve's and their thighs were touching and he couldn't scoot over anymore because he was pressed against the side of the boat, but he didn't really want to anyway. Steve was still wearing that tight polyester shirt and Bucky wanted to feel it to find out if it was really as soft as it looked, but he knew he couldn't do that. At one point, Steve leaned against him to point something out but the action brought their faces within a few inches of each other and he could feel Steve's breath on his cheek. Bucky fought the urge to turn toward him and see the look on his face; to see if he was totally unaware of their closeness. The trip went on like that and the tension in his belly, his desire to reach out, the overwhelming feeling of Steve pressing against him – all of it had his hands shaking, more so than usual.

"I'm so grateful to all of you for your service to this great nation," Yondu was saying as they pulled up the dock. "I hope you all enjoyed the tour today."

Bucky waited and Steve stayed put, letting other people stand to disembark first. He was taking deep, quiet breaths and counting to one hundred in his head to try to ease the feeling in his belly; it wasn't anxiety or fear or anger – it was desire. He felt embarrassed and foolish for it; Steve was pressed against him because he was a big guy and took up a lot of room.

But as it was their turn to stand and begin moving, Steve's hand brushed his in a completely unnecessary way. Up to that point, Bucky had made a point of not looking at Steve – avoiding eye contact and trying to appear interested in anything besides the man next to him. But when he felt Steve's fingers on his left hand, he turned, quickly, to find Steve staring right at his face, observing his reactions to the situation.

As quickly as the touch happened, it ended, and Steve stood up; he began walking toward the passage to get on the dock. Bucky followed suit, feeling like he should take that moment to run and dive into the lake.

* * *

Later, Bucky was lying on the beach again, reading his book after he had spent quite a bit of time in the lake. When they returned from the tour, they had cooked lunch and Sam had suggested that a group of them go hiking. Maria had taken her vehicle to go to town and buy some more food and water.

He stood up and took his towel over to the tent, dropping it off before he went to the bathroom. He pulled his hair down and ran his fingers through it and smiled, feeling the heat of the sun in it. He washed his hands and splashed water on his face before he walked out. He started back toward the beach but decided to sit under the shade of a tree to avoid getting too dehydrated. He lay on his back in the soft grass and thought about Steve.

Captain America was going out of his way to spend time with him on this trip; he was sitting with him, hiking with him, staying up late, talking to him, and touching him… They used to call Steve "the man with the plan," because of his incredibly strategic mind. Was this all some sort of plan? If so, for what? What was the object of all of this? Could it really be unintentional? Or was he just using Bucky to make himself feel better?

"Hey Buck."

Speak of the devil, he thought.

"Hey Stevie," he replied, smiling and sitting up as Steve walked over and sat down, leaving a few feet between them.

"This is nice," he said, looking around at the shaded area and feeling the grass with his hands.

As they sat in silence, listening to the sounds of nature, Bucky saw a group of vets returning with their fishing poles and tackle. "We caught dinner for tonight!" They joked as they walked by.

He glanced over at Steve, chewing his lip, nervously. That calm acceptance he had felt in the night was fading away, leaving only his anxious and confused thoughts. What if Steve was just exploring some passing curiosity? People did that, he knew. He didn't exactly know how Steve had learned that he was bisexual, but he'd known by the time they went on this trip. It hardly mattered, though; he'd stopped feeling the shame his family had impressed on him years before.

"Buck," Steve said, drawing him out of his thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

Bucky chuckled and said, "You don't have to keep asking that."

Steve looked at him then, regarding his face, looking for any hesitation, and then he nodded. "When you're, uh, interested in someone, are you attracted to the same, um… qualities in both men and women?"

Bucky was actually surprised by the question and he released a nervous chuckle, "No," he answer, "not really."

Steve turned his body toward him and asked, "What's different?" Bucky gave him a dubious expression and Steve added, laughing, "Besides the obvious."

Bucky found himself laughing too. He wanted to ask Steve why he wanted to know these things; he wanted to ask so badly, but he was so afraid that if he asked, Steve would pull back and pretend that he was kidding around, that he was never serious.

"In women," he began, thoughtfully, "I like curves and I don't care about the size of their bellies or butts. I want the confidence." He paused, trying to decide how to say the next part. "In men, I…" he rubbed his neck, avoiding Steve's gaze and blushing. "I like muscles and, um, tall guys. I like when a man can pick me up and, kind of, um, physically put me where and how he wants me. Hold my hands down and, um, you know, take control."

Bucky was so nervous; he gripped his left arm, trying to hide the tremor that was suddenly a lot worse. He clenched that fist, trying to get it under control, when Steve reached over and put his hand on Bucky's upper arm. He always had the gut reaction to yank his arm away; it hurt sometimes, like a Charlie horse that wouldn't go away. The metal made it ache in the cold and sometimes it became nearly unusable. The tremors were worse when he was anxious or afraid; they were better when he was all alone.

But the feeling of Steve's hand on him was calming somehow and he felt himself asking again, Why does Steve Rogers make me feel so safe?

"What happened when you broke your arm?" Steve asked, rubbing the muscle with his thumb.

Bucky's desire to avoid Steve's gaze evaporated and he turned to him, shocked. His eyes were intent on Bucky's arm but looked up. "I told you," Bucky said. "There was an accident."

Steve nodded his head, "You did tell me that."

"And that's it," Bucky snapped.

Steve scooted closer to him and said, "I don't think that's it." He paused, giving Bucky time to get up and leave if he wanted to, but he stayed. Steve asked, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Bucky shook his head, shutting his eyes tightly. "Steve, I –" he stopped, laying his head in his right hand. "You said… you said I saved your life but I don't remember that," Bucky finally said, weakly.

Steve's voice was unsure as he asked, "What do you mean?"

He swallowed. "Before I joined the military, I had a… I'd been using," he said, feeling like he could shake right out of his skin. "I, um, I got sober and enlisted. I was sober all through my service but, when I got home, I just…" He noticed that Steve's hand wasn't letting him go and the thumb kept rubbing his skin, comforting him. "I got pretty bad, I guess," he continued. "My friend, Pietro, he was younger than me and, fuck, he was a good kid. But I gave him a hit and, after that, we used together all the time."

He was trying to stay quiet; this wasn't something he wanted anyone else to hear – he didn't even want Steve to hear it.

"One day, we were at his place and, for some reason, we decided to go somewhere. Maybe to eat, but I don't know. Pietro was high and he blew through a red light and we got hit." Bucky was crying, suddenly, and tried to stifle a sob but it came out. Steve moved his hand from Bucky's arm to his back, rubbing his left shoulder. "He was killed instantly, thank God. The whole car was crushed like an accordion and my arm was, like, trapped with Pietro. I got a serious concussion, some broken ribs, and my arm was completely smashed. But I lived," he said, bitterly, as his body was racked with more sobs.

Steve's hand continued to rub his back, comforting him through the tears. After a time, Steve asked, softly, "You forgot your time in Afghanistan?"

"Some, not all," Bucky shook his head and chuckled, wiping his nose with his arm. "It's funny, the last thing I remember is when you were holding me after I got the call from my sister, that my dad was dying."

Steve inhaled, sharply and said, "I wish you remembered what you did for me, Bucky. It's something I can never repay."

He turned to look at Steve, realizing just how close they were to one another. Bucky really believed that Steve was about to kiss him; his eyes dropped to Bucky's lips and Steve's hand felt like it was pulling him, just slightly.

But Steve dropped his hand, letting Bucky go and they moved away from one another again. "I'm glad you talked to me, Buck," Steve said, quietly.

After a little while, Bucky excused himself to go to the bathroom and clean up.

* * *

When Maria returned that afternoon, she immediately started dumping ice into the coolers and putting the food and water bottles where they needed to go. When Bucky walked over, he asked, "Can I help?"

She shook her head, smiling, and said, "Nah, it's mostly done, but you can sit and talk."

He sat down in a camp chair near her and told her about the morning; the hike, the boat ride, the conversation under the tree. She listened, nodding or giving him hard looks at certain points where he absolutely knew she would.

Slowly but surely, evening came on and everyone began moving back toward the barbecue area for dinner. They began cooking the fish in tin foil with lemon and spices; he had never eaten fish like that, especially not cooked over an open fire. Dino, Gabe, and Izzy came to sit next to him and talked about the hike they had gone on with Sam. They had taken a different trail than he and Steve had and told him how incredible the view had been. He told them about the trail to the lookout over the lake and they said that they would have to hike that before the trip was over.

That was the first moment that Bucky remembered that they only had one more night there.

As the evening went on, someone brought out a few cases of beer. He hadn't had a drink in sixteen months and he didn't intend to have one tonight, so, when Dino offered him one, he put a hand up and said, "No, thanks." Without a question, he nodded and moved on to the next person.

The fish was served not too long after that and Bucky was surprised to find that he enjoyed the taste a great deal. He ate it quickly and wiped his hands and face with a napkin before throwing it all away. The group was talking and laughing; someone was telling a ghost story to his right but other people were too loud for him to really focus on it.

Steve was standing by the fire with Sam, laughing and drinking beer. Bucky wasn't sure if it was his second or third, but it didn't really matter to him. Suddenly, he looked over and Steve was pulling his phone out of the pocket of his shorts and frowning at the screen. He tapped Sam's shoulder and said something before he stepped away from the group and held the phone to his ear.

Bucky tried not to watch him as he walked further away; he knew that he was invading Steve's privacy so he turned his attention back to Izzy who was telling a story. He hadn't been listening enough to know what he was really talking about but he did his best to follow along. The sounds became grating after a while and the creeping feeling of anxiety began to come over him, like a cloud covering the sun.

It was after sunset but there was still some light in sky; he was looking up at the vista over the lake again, remembering when he and Steve had sat there together. He glanced over to find that Steve was returning with a scowl on his face. His lips were a hard line and he finished his beer and tossed the can in the appropriate bag for recycling.

Bucky sighed and rubbed his face. "You alright, man?" Gabe asked.

He looked at him and said, "Yeah, just a bit tired. It was a long day."

They nodded and Izzy said, "We won't judge you if you head to bed."

He chuckled and shook his head, "Nah, you're all way too noisy for anyone to get any shuteye around here." They laughed together, nodding, and becoming more boisterous as they drank more. He said, "I think I'm gonna take a walk, maybe wake myself up."

Dino patted his shoulder and said, "Good idea, man."

They all smiled at him as he stood and then continued talking and joking as they had been. When he was moving through the group, he heard Maria's voice, "Bucky, you off to bed?"

He turned and found her leaning against the picnic table. He said, "No, I'm just gonna take a walk, get some air."

She nodded but added, "Someone should go with you."

"I'll go," Steve said, suddenly; Bucky hadn't realized he had even been listening to them. He said, "I could use a walk, too."

Maria looked back at him and grabbed a flashlight, bringing it over to him. "Is that okay?" She asked, quietly.

He nodded and took it, then began walking toward the trailhead that the others had told him about. It wasn't steep, they had said, and there were plenty of places to turn around if he needed to return to camp. He turned the flashlight on, though there was still some light, and listened as Steve's footsteps followed behind him. They reached the trailhead and he began heading in, using the flashlight to illuminate the ground. For a hiking trail, it was a very open area; it seemed almost like a meadow beneath the tree canopy.

"Hey, Buck," Steve said with only a minor hint of inebriation. "Slow down." Bucky waited for a moment, allowed Steve to catch up but then he moved again, trying to keep some distance between them. "That was Sharon on the phone," Steve said, suddenly, and Bucky stopped and turned to look at him.

"Is she okay?"

He nodded, "Yeah, but she's really pissed. She didn't want me to come this year," he said. "But we'd have just fought if I stayed, so I came."

Bucky began walking and said, "Wouldn't that be better than following my ass around the mountains?"

"Hey," Steve said, chuckling, "I like your ass."

Bucky stopped, feeling very nervous suddenly, and took a shaky breath. This is not a good idea, he thought to himself. "What was she mad about?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

"She's pissed at me about something I can't control," he said, cryptically.

Bucky kept walking up the trail, but hesitated when the flashlight illuminated rocks and branches along the path. He wondered if it was safe for Steve to be drunk up here. "We should turn around now," he said and he turned.

Bucky was trying to determine the quickest way to get around Steve, but for such a big, somewhat drunk guy, he was fast, and he grabbed Bucky's arm to hold him in place. "Wait," Steve said in a low voice, but Bucky still tried to get around him. Instead of letting him, though, Steve grabbed his waist and pulled Bucky's body against his own, roughly. Shocked, Bucky lost his balance, caught his foot on a rock, and grabbed Steve, who was too drunk to catch them and they both toppled over.

Steve landed, rather heavily, on Bucky's chest and pulled himself back to look down at him. He was so close and his eyes were looking over Bucky's face, before he leaned down. "Steve," was all he could say as their lips touched; it was tentative and shy, slow.

Bucky could tell that Steve, even intoxicated, wondered if he would get thrown off at any moment. Bucky knew what Steve would do: he'd laugh and say it was just a joke, then he'd help Bucky up and they'd continue as they had, heading back down the trail.

Everything would change between them after that.

But if Bucky kissed back – if he adjusted their bodies to accommodate the awkward position and didn't push Steve away – he didn't know what would happen. It was almost like a game and Steve had rolled the dice, upped the ante, and was waiting to see if Bucky would call it.

As if it had a mind of its own, Bucky's shaking left hand came up and pressed against the back of Steve's head, and then the world opened up and heat poured out. Steve's tongue pressed between Bucky's lips and he tasted like lemon and cheap beer. The kiss was fast and hard; it was teeth, tongue, and swollen lips but it was Steve kissing him and he didn't care that it hurt a little. Steve had listened when Bucky told him what he liked in a man or maybe Steve was always like this, which was even more exciting.

Steve pulled away first and Bucky nearly whined but he held it down; if he was stopping, that was for the best. "This," Steve whispered against Bucky's lips, taking in ragged breaths.

Bucky looked up, confused, and asked, "What?"

"This is why she's pissed," he said. "I can't stop thinking about you." Bucky's eyes widened and he shivered, suddenly feeling the cool ground against his back. "She's pissed but I can't stop," he placed a soft kiss against Bucky's lips. "I don't want to."

Bucky's hands were finally able to feel that soft fabric and he groaned without meaning to and Steve's hand reached up to the back of Bucky's head, pulling him into the kiss. He could feel the prickling hairs from Steve's growing beard and it was a sharp, stinging pain but it was incredible.

Bucky was on fire, everywhere; Steve was far warmer than he should be and his body was pressed against Bucky's. He lifted himself, not breaking the kiss for one moment, to adjust and get one knee between Bucky's, groaning a low sound deep in his chest and Bucky pressed harder against him. Steve pressed back, sending shockwaves up his spine, and Bucky moaned. Steve swallowed the sound but repeated the movement.

Steve's hands moved to Bucky's hips, rocking into him, his every breath a quiet moan into Steve's mouth. He moved himself again so that both legs were between Bucky's and he gasped, breaking the kiss to drop his head into the crook of Bucky's neck. He bit there, a sharp pain, and Bucky moaned, louder but not enough that someone might hear. He gasped, "Steve," when he felt the hardness pressing into his thigh.

"Buck," he moaned, gripping his hips tighter, enough that they might bruise. "Wanted to do this for so long," he whispered. Bucky slid his right hand into Steve's hair, finding purchase, and pulling lightly. He groaned, snapping his hips harder into Bucky's. "God, Buck," he groaned.

But inside, Bucky knew this was wrong. Steve was drunk; he had a girlfriend; he was hurting. And a part of Bucky – the part that had let men do that to him and throw cash at him when they were done, over and over – wanted Steve to do it.

But the better part of him – the part that felt like it was falling in love with Steve – knew it wasn't right to do this. He knew that Steve was in a vulnerable place; Bucky realized that he was taking advantage of him, and that made him feel sick with himself.

He had to end it; he had to stop this. He pulled away and pushed Steve off of him in one movement, causing him to fall on his side in the grass. "What the hell?" Steve asked, angrily.

Bucky stood up, quickly, adjusting himself, fixing his clothes before Steve could even stand. "Don't," Bucky said, "Just don't."

"What is it?" Steve asked, weaving as he finally stood up.

He shook his head, "You're drunk, Steve. You have a girlfriend. You were just talking about her." He brushed dirt off of his clothes. "This isn't okay."

Steve's face went through a few different emotions: anger, shame, embarrassment, and sadness before he answered. "Bucky, I –"

"Steve, you just fought with her half an hour ago. Don't use me to make yourself feel better, okay?" He felt guilty and angry with himself. Maria told him Steve would need a friend but he might think he wanted more. "I'm not a tool for you to use to get back at her."

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, confused and angry.

Bucky said, frustrated, "You're only kissing me because you're miserable with her, not because you like me, Steve."

"What? Buck, no –"

"Let's just go back, Steve," and with that, Bucky was walking back toward the campground and he didn't stop to make sure that Steve was following him.

* * *

He returned to the barbecue and walked straight to Maria; she was standing in the same place as she had been. "What's wrong?" She asked, quietly, when she saw his face.

"Can I… can I sleep in your tent?"

"Sure." Giving him a deeply sympathetic look, she nodded, "Yeah, Bucky, get your stuff."

He rushed back to the tent he shared with Steve and got his things, including the sleeping bag, and followed Maria to hers. She hadn't been lying when she said it was big – it could fit a family of five, but he didn't give it more than a glance before he laid his sleeping bag out. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked, sitting on her own sleeping bag with her legs crossed.

"I messed up, Maria," he said as he began to cry, telling her what had happened.

Bucky woke up in a cold sweat with his arms clenched over his chest; it took him a moment to realize he wasn't breathing. He gasped and sat up, quickly, taking fast, sobbing breaths. He looked over but Maria wasn't in her sleeping bag; he had no idea what time it was but he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep.

He got up, slowly, and went to his canvas bag, pulling out his toothbrush and other items, as well as some clean clothes. He unzipped the tent, slowly, and looked outside; there were still two people by the fire but the rest of the place was silent, apart from the sounds of nature. The sky was pitch black and he couldn't determine the hour. He crept across the site to the bathroom.

When inside, he use the hand soap to wash his face and armpits, using paper towels to dry himself. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth, then left the bathroom to return to Maria's tent. But as he was walking, he realized that the two people at the fire were Maria and Steve. He dropped down, hoping they hadn't seen him.

"Steve, I can't, you know I can't," Maria said, sympathetically.

"I know, fuck," Steve sighed. "I know it's unprofessional to even ask but I'm, Jesus, Maria, I'm scared I fucked it all up."

"Steve," she said, sighing. "You do have a girlfriend, right? Bucky was right about that."

"I know that," he said, sounding defeated at the mere mention of her.

"Do you think that's fair to Bucky?" She asked.

"No," he replied. "But I'm going to end it," he said, more assuredly.

"You can't do that for him, Steve," she said. "You know that doesn't end well."

"No," he said. "I'm doing it for myself."

"You do that," she said, "and then you talk to him."

Steve sighed, sadly, "Do you think he'll even talk to me after this?"

She didn't answer him right away. "I think you need to find out."

Bucky decided to head back to Maria's tent and lie down again; he crept that way, trying to hide from them. When he got inside, he lay down on his sleeping bag with his arms behind his head, thinking about what he'd heard. Was Steve sober or had they continued drinking? Would Steve even remember any of this when he woke up? After what happened, could Bucky face him without feeling humiliated? When they got back to the city, would he really leave Sharon?

A moment later, Maria opened the tent and stepped inside. She looked at Bucky and then walked to her sleeping bag. "Bucky, I know you heard that," she said.

"I didn't mean to," he said, defensively.

"I know," she replied, lying down.

He bit his lip, nervously, before asking, "Was he still drunk?"

She sighed, rolling onto her side to face him. "No," she said, "he stopped drinking when he got back to the barbecue. I asked Sam."

"When did you guys start talking?"

She thought for a moment, checking her watch. "About two hours ago. After you fell asleep, I went back out there. He came and asked to talk to me, said he was worried about you. I told him it wasn't a good idea to try and talk to you for a while."

He rubbed his face, roughly, with both hands and said, "I don't know what to do. I have no idea what is the right thing in this situation."

"Bucky, there's something more you need to consider," she said; her tone was almost sad. "While you're in the program, you and Steve can't… you could get kicked out of the program and he could lose his job."

"What?" He asked, suddenly, and sat up.

She sighed, "I should have talked to you about it when you first told me but I – I really didn't think –"

"You didn't think he'd actually be interested in me?" He asked, suddenly feeling angry and hurt.

She sat up and said, "No, Bucky, that's not what I thought." She crossed her legs and went on, "I could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he talked about you. He approached me about you after we started counseling and I could tell that his interest in you went beyond his role in the program."

"Why wouldn't you tell me sooner?" He asked, looking down at his hands.

She shook her head, "I don't have a good reason, Bucky. I guess, I didn't think he would ever leave her."

He sighed and nodded, whispering, "Neither did I."

"I don't want to see you get hurt," she said, lying down again.

Me neither, he thought to himself.

Bucky lay there for what felt like hours after Maria fell asleep. He couldn't get comfortable; he couldn't shut his mind off; and he felt incredibly nervous about the possibility of something with Steve.

He knew he was getting ahead of himself but he couldn't stop.


	2. Love is Just A Kiss Away

Author's Note: I've rewritten this story and added more content. I've spaced things out a bit and I'm much happier with it!

* * *

He heard movement outside but he wasn't entirely conscious of it; he floated in and out of sleep after a while. He was awoken by voices, thumping sounds, and shuffling, but he slipped back into sleep easily. When he finally woke up, Sam had made coffee and some eggs for everyone. He hurried to get dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt, and ran out to eat some before it was all gone.

"Hey Bucky," Sam said, handing over the vanilla creamer. "You'll be riding back with me."

Bucky turned to him, "Huh?"

"Yeah, man, Steve had to leave early this morning. He took most of the coolers and the bags, that way we can fit all of you in two vehicles." Bucky thought for a moment and then nodded, stirring the dry creamer into his coffee and shoveling his food into his face. "Start getting packed after you eat," Sam said to the group.

Bucky bit his lip to conceal the quiver in his lip. He probably changed his mind about everything, Bucky thought as he finished his food.

The drive back was absolutely terrible. Because of the number of people squished into two vehicles, he had to sit in back and had been carsick the entire way. They pulled up in front of the shelter around two o'clock that day and Bucky had to rush out to get to a bathroom. He rinsed his mouth out over and over and then drank some water to clear the vomit taste out of his throat. When he finally thought he may be safe, he returned to the curb to grab his bag.

"Sorry man," Sam said, pulling it out of the trunk of his Subaru and passing it to Bucky. "It's not usually that cramped."

"It's okay," Bucky said, wincing as he pulled the bag over his head to hang on his left shoulder. The sky was gray and it looked like it might rain; he felt an ache in his chest but he pushed it down. He couldn't look at it yet.

He carried his bag up the stairs to his room and emptied it on the floor. He put his toothbrush, toothpaste, and the rest on his desk, and then put all of the dirty clothes into his plastic bag to take them to the basement. The rest, he refolded and put back in the drawers and laid the pillow back on his bed. He carried the plastic bag downstairs and tossed it all in the washer, adding the soap and sitting on the chair to wait. There were four washers and four driers in the basement but no one else came in to do their laundry.

The laundry took nearly three hours; he dropped the clean laundry off in his room and then he went to wait in line at the soup kitchen. He felt like he was in a fog; he knew that Steve had left the trip early to avoid seeing Bucky and having to tell him that he wasn't going to leave Sharon.

Bucky had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't realized that someone was speaking to him until she waved her hand in his face. "You okay?"

He looked up and saw Hope, the Air Force vet he'd met before. "Yeah, sorry, just lost in thought."

"Have you started looking for a job?"

He nodded, "I actually got two." He felt a little less miserable being able to think about something other than Steve.

"That's great! Where at?"

"I work at Benny's and at Stark," he replied.

Her eyes widened and her smile faded, "Stark? Do you know Scott?"

"Scott Lang? Yeah," he nodded.

"He and I have been dating for a little while," she said with a small quiver in her voice. "He doesn't – he doesn't know I'm in the program."

Bucky nodded and said, solemnly, "He won't hear about it from me."

She continued to look a bit anxious for a moment before she nodded, "I'm not ashamed of the program, or anything."

He shook his head and said, "I totally understand. People look at you, um, differently when they know you're homeless."

"Yeah, they do," she said, looking down at her shoes. They spoke a bit more as they ate but, all too soon, Bucky's misery returned.

When he returned after dinner, he put the rest of his clothes away and lay down on the bed, falling asleep within minutes.

He awoke the next morning at four and got up to get ready for work. He found his clothes and dressed, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. Once he was out the door, he realized that it had been raining all night. He didn't go back for his coat.

When he arrived at Benny's, he immediately made himself a large coffee and ate a bagel sandwich. "Welcome back!" May said, smiling at him as he paid her.

"Thank you," he said, trying to smile.

"Tell me about the trip!" She said, conversationally. He talked in vague terms about the lake and the hiking, but it seemed to satisfy her.

Work went by quickly; they were swamped but Bucky watched the entire time to see if Steve would come in, though he knew, deep down, he wouldn't. When his shift ended, he hung up his apron and walked back to the shelter, anxious about what might happen.

If Steve were there, would he even speak to Bucky? Or would he avoid him? When he reached the doors, he took a moment to peer inside before entering. Darcy's head shot up when she saw him and she waved him over; her face was anxious, forlorn even, and he began to worry more. "Bucky," she whispered as he approached. "Steve came in for, like, ten minutes this morning but then he left."

"What?" He asked, a bit louder than he intended.

"Steve," she said, hushing him, "he took a last minute vacation. No one knows why."

I know why, he thought and dropped his eyes, sighing, "Uh, for how long?"

"Should be back Monday," she said, smiling at someone who had just come inside.

He nodded and waved at her, stepping away from the desk and walking to the stairs. He reached his room and got into his gym clothes, then hurried up to the gym to work off some of his frustration.

Why couldn't they have just talked about it? Like adults? Why did they both run away? Steve could have played it off as a drunken mistake and Bucky would have been hurt, but he'd deal. This – Steve leaving because he was embarrassed – was not how it had to be. It was not how it should be. They could have gone back to being friends.

Even if Bucky ached for more.

He finished his circuit and hurried to the shower before he had to be at Stark. When he arrived, Clint smiled, happily, and said, "It was fun, wasn't it?"

He nodded, smiling, "Yeah, it was beautiful up there."

Bucky had been working at Stark for several weeks; he was on his own and felt like he had the entire system down to a science. He enjoyed the work; it was fast-paced and he had very little time to think about anything beyond Who's next in line? Who's got a table up? Is there room at the bar for this couple? Pepper really seemed to like him and approved of his work; she made sure he was scheduled to cover the more lucrative spots in rotation with Clint, earning him hundreds of dollars in tips each night.

On the other hand, Tony's abrupt manner and seemingly cold visage had earned him the nickname "Iron Man" from his employees and Bucky was no exception. He was polite but enigmatic and Bucky was never sure if he was doing a good job or totally demolishing the place. Sam had been right when he'd told Bucky that Tony was unpredictable. When Clint had warned him that Tony could spot a crooked place setting or smudged glass from anywhere, he hadn't been exaggerating. But that trait seemed to rub off on people, since everyone called Clint "the hawk" because of his ability to point out the same things, though he typically used the talent for spotting potential issues coming into the restaurant.

Bucky had already shown his own ability to de-escalate situations more than once. A drunk guy had wandered in, trying to get to the bar, and Bucky was able to pull him aside and convince him to take a taxi home; a couple had been fighting, rather loudly, and he was able to convince them take their food to go, which Stark did not usually do; and he had even helped Drax when a very inebriated customer tried to climb over the bar and assault him.

Around nine-thirty that night, Tony approached him and said, "Take a break." Bucky's heart leapt into his throat, worried he'd finally done the wrong thing. He met Clint's eyes and he nodded, so Bucky followed Tony into the office. "Take a seat, Frosty," he said, gesturing to the chairs nearest the door.

"Yes, sir," Bucky said and sat down, trying to cover the shaking in his left arm.

"Uh, Tony," he corrected as he grabbed the rolling chair and pulled it to the side of the desk to face Bucky. He was wearing a three-piece suit in charcoal with a white shirt and a red tie. He shed the suit jacket, letting it hang on the back of the chair before sitting down.

"Tony," Bucky repeated.

Tony nodded, resting his elbow on the desk and leaning over to stare right at Bucky. "Okay, I'm impressed, Frosty," he said, quickly, sitting back in the chair. "I've been watching you. You intercepted four disasters today and changed their course without even raising your voice. That's a skill I can use more of." At that moment, Pepper came into the office as well and Tony smiled – really smiled. "Pepper, can you ask Drax to get us a –"

"Maya's bringing it in," she interrupted. "Don't forget, Phil's coming in for that meeting soon."

"Why is he 'Phil'?" He asked, looking at her confusedly, but then Maya – tall with wavy brown hair – walked in with a bottle of champagne.

Bucky began to stand up and said, "Should I head back out there?"

Pepper shook her head, "No, Bucky."

Maya tried to hand the bottle to Tony and he appeared physically uncomfortable with the gesture. "I don't like being handed things, so –"

"Which is fine," Pepper interjected, "because I love to be handed things," and grabbed the bottle from her. "Thanks, Maya," she said, smiling kindly, and unwinding the wire surrounding the cork.

"Thanks, Pepper," she replied and smiled at Bucky before returning to the floor.

"So, where were we?" Tony asked, somewhat awkwardly as he watched Pepper struggled to pop the cork out of the bottle.

Pepper sighed and shook her head, then handed the bottle over to Tony before saying, "Bucky, Clint is going to start working with Drax in the bar and we wanted to offer you the position."

He gulped and blinked a few times, "What?"

Tony tried to hide his chuckle and Pepper swatted his shoulder. "Clint's job; he's the host manager but our other bartender, Betty, is leaving us."

"You want – you want me to take over his position?"

Tony smirked and said, "Frosty, that's an excellent idea but I think Pepper had it first," finally popping the cork out, grabbing one of the glasses to allow the foam to pour in.

"Tony," Pepper admonished before turning her attention back to Bucky. "It's a two dollar raise and brings you to forty hours, making you eligible for sick and vacation leave, as well as health insurance." She took the glass from Tony and handed him another to pour.

He almost choked as he nodded, "Yes – yes, thank you!"

Tony snapped his fingers and clapped his hands. "Wonderful, Pepper you take over," he said, standing and leaving the office with his glass of champagne.

Bucky stared after him and then turned back to Pepper. "This is incredible," he said. She smiled and sat down where Tony had been, grabbing a third glass. "Oh, I don't drink," Bucky said, holding up his hand. "But thank you."

She nodded and smiled, "You'll start tomorrow. Clint will move over to the bar to train before Betty leaves."

"What is she going to do?" He asked.

"She's been offered a PhD program in cellular biology," Pepper explained, taking a sip of champagne. She considered him for a moment and then asked, "Bucky, if you don't mind my saying, you've seemed to be a little down tonight. Is everything okay?"

He hesitated, trying to decide if she was simply asking or if she was genuinely interested. "I, uh, just… there's someone I really thought –" he stuttered but took a breath and said, "I'll be fine."

She looked at him, sympathetically, and nodded. "Bucky, you're a really great guy," she said, "I hope it works out."

He tried to smile but it didn't work out well. "Thanks, Pepper."

That night, as he was leaving Stark, Bucky heard voices from an alley. This in itself was not unusual; this area was fairly busy, even so late at night. What caught his attention was who the voice belonged to.

Bucky rounded the corner and found Brock Rumlow standing with another man. They were speaking in low voices but Bucky watched the other man hand Brock a wad of cash. Brock counted it before reaching over and dropping a small baggy into the man's waiting hands. As they separated, Brock looked up to find Bucky, staring at him.

Bucky just ducked his head and returned to the street, walking at a much quicker pace. He returned to the shelter at eleven and went straight to the bathroom.

He decided to push aside thoughts of Brock. He wasn't a narc, even if he did think that selling drugs was an unacceptable way to work oneself off of the program. So many vets were still homeless, so many on the waitlist – they deserved to have this opportunity.

However, his thoughts soon returned to Steve. He pretended that the water on his cheeks was from the shower but he couldn't deny the truth when he lay down on his bed.

The next few days went about the same as they had in the past, except Steve never stopped into Benny's, though Bucky wasn't surprised. He tried to focus on his promotion and the increase in tips, since Clint was no longer working as a host at Stark. When it was time for his break, Maya would come to cover for him and he went to the bar. She always smiled at him with her cherry colored lips and he could tell that she wanted to talk to him but he couldn't even muster up his cocky grin. He just smiled and thanked her before going to order food.

Bucky could tell that Clint was loving being with Drax in the bar, flirting and touching him, but making it seem accidental. Drax would always chuckle and continue working. When Bucky had first seen them, it was unclear how Drax felt about Clint and his attentions, but watching them work so closely, it was clear that something was going on between them. He couldn't be sure that they had even seen one another outside of work but he was willing to bet that they'd move to that step soon.

Sitting at the bar, waiting for his food, he'd watch them and feel worse. On one hand, he was jealous and he felt like an asshole for it; on the other, he was angry that they seemed so happy and he felt like an asshole for that too.

Each night, he left with a heavy feeling in his stomach, a sense of dread that Steve could return from his trip with Sharon at any time and they'd have to see one another.

What would happen? Would he avoid Bucky or would he make him quit the program? What if he told Sharon about Bucky and she pressured him to get him kicked out? He couldn't really imagine Steve doing that but he wasn't thinking logically; he was thinking through a bitter lens.

He cried in the shower each night; he hadn't meant to feel something for Steve. He hadn't meant to get invested. He'd lie in bed and think about how it felt to have Steve's weight on him in those woods; he remembered the way he smelled and tasted; and he remembered hearing Steve talk about leaving Sharon.

He felt like a fool and, each night, he thought to himself that he really needed to find a place to live soon. He'd been in the program for four months and was doing a lot better than other vets but that wasn't the only reason he wanted to leave. He was afraid about how things would go with Steve after everything that had happened.

He'd toss and turn, worrying and dejected, until he'd fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

On Thursday, he awoke at four to get ready for work, though he was dragging. He went to the bathroom to dress, brush his teeth, and fix his hair, before he went downstairs to head to work. He looked out the lobby doors at a sheet of heavy rain.

When he arrived at the bakery, he ordered a huge coffee and a breakfast sandwich for himself and, when he finished, he bought a refill on the coffee.

They were busy but it felt like the time droned on and on; the rain never let up and it remained a muggy, rainy day. Before his shift ended, he decided to organize the pastries and remove the empty plates. "Hey, Bucky-bear," a familiar voice said and his head shot up from the bakery case.

"What the hell?" He asked, finding Natasha standing at the counter. She was wearing a pair of bright green and blue yoga pants and a gray sweatshirt, and her hair was straightened, framing her face.

She smirked, "Medium strawberry smoothie with a hint of chocolate," she said and dropped a $10 bill by the tablet. As she stepped away, she said, "And you look like you could use a break."

He went to the till to put the order in and cashed it out, grumbling, "I'm off in ten minutes."

She turned to him and said, "Even better." She found a table by the window and stared out at the rain. Bucky placed the order slip on the counter and turned to find Peter staring, slack-jawed, at Natasha. Bucky leaned over and tapped his shoulder to get his attention and pointed to the slip, and then he returned his attention to the next customer.

When he finally clocked out, he put his apron away and walked over to where she was sitting, drinking her smoothie. She smiled, sweetly, and said, "How was the trip?" As he opened his mouth to answer, her face lost all of that kindness and she interrupted, "I know exactly how it went."

He rolled his eyes and asked, "Then why are you here?"

She sat back, rolling her neck, and said, "Steve told me what you said, what you thought he was doing." He didn't respond; it was clear that she would just interrupt him again if he had wanted to, so he simply nodded. She sighed in frustration and continued, "Bucky, you got the impression that was my plan, didn't you?" He gave another small nod, so she went on, "Well, it wasn't. I love Steve. He is the best person, the best friend anyone could have, but he gets shit on." She sat back in her chair, looking sadly down at her smoothie. "I begged him to leave her when she cheated.

"She was never actually interested in Steve; she made fun of the things he enjoyed until he stopped enjoying them." She huffed in anger, blowing sweet smelling air at him. "Did you have any idea that he's a huge nerd? He loves superheroes. But she quashed that – she told him to get rid of all of his comics and figures, so they're at my house because I couldn't let him throw them away.

"Early on, she made him buy new clothes, change his hair, get rid of his video games – she wanted Steve's body, but fuck whatever was inside it. She made him a goddamn Ken doll and he did everything she told him to and she still cheated on him." Her skin was red and splotchy from the anger she was feeling. "And he stayed. She said it was because he didn't pay enough attention to her. By then, he was already her goddamn Stepford boy and had been for three years.

"So he stayed, despite my objections," she sighed, taking another drink. "There was quite a while there, when he was really down, he was talking about re-enlisting. But he didn't want to serve, Bucky, he wanted to die." She took a moment to wipe some tears from her eyes with her sleeve. "But then he came over a couple months ago and he was completely different. He was Steve. You know what he wanted to talk to me about?"

Bucky was sure he knew the answer but he shook his head, "No."

"Liar," she said, pointedly. "He started talking about this new guy in the program, a guy he was stationed with, a guy who saved his ass from some assholes in an alley, and he was alive, Bucky!" She leaned forward, leaning her elbows on the table. "He was there, right there, with me. I was surprised when he wanted to eat dinner at Stark because he doesn't like those swanky places, but when I mentioned it, he said that's where you work. I had to say something, Bucky, I had to." She put her fingers over her mouth to hide the tremble in her lip as she fought a losing battle against the tears. "Steve has never done a selfish thing in his life but kiss you that night." She took a breath and finished the smoothie, wiping her eyes again.

Bucky let out a shaky breath and said, "But then he took off with her."

She looked up at him, surprised, and then began laughing. Between fits, she said, "No, he – he didn't, he – dumped her on Sunday. He – he took the time off to – to move out."

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Yeah, Bucky," she said, her laughter ebbing. "He moved out and he's been crashing at my place." Bucky swallowed, thickly, and tried to catch his breath. "So, I'm here to ask you to go see him, to reconsider, Bucky, because I'm pretty fucking sure he's falling in love with you." She stood up and tossed the cup into the bin behind her. "And I think you are too."

With that, she walked out of Benny's, leaving Bucky in tears at the table.

* * *

The following day, Bucky returned from Stark at eleven and immediately went to take a shower. It was hot and muggy outside, even at that time of night. He was grateful that he could sleep later the next day. He scrubbed his skin and his hair before getting out and drying off, then he brushed his teeth and pulled his briefs on. It was too humid in the bathroom to even consider pulling on more clothing. He picked up his dirty clothes and grabbed his toothbrush and toothpaste, using the towel to dry his hair some more before tossing it in the hamper.

He went to the door, looked down both ends of the hall and then hurried from the bathroom to his bedroom and sat down on his bed, relishing the cool air coming from the vent. He thought about what Natasha had said to him and he felt the familiar nervousness erupt in his stomach. He wondered what he should say to Steve when they saw one another again.

He was about to lie down when he heard a soft knock at the door and he worried that he'd woken someone up, that he'd been too loud. He walked over, biting his lip, nervously; he turned the knob and pulled the door open, using it to shield himself.

"Steve?" He gasped, opening the door all the way.

"Hey Buck," Steve said, smiling.

Steve was wearing a tight white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers. The stubble that Bucky had felt when Steve kissed him in the woods was growing into a dark blond beard and Bucky had never known he was so attracted to facial hair until that moment. It was the most dressed down Bucky had ever seen him, even compared to when they had been on the camping trip.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, as Steve's tongue darted out to lick his own lips while his eyes wandered over Bucky's body. Bucky realized that he was only wearing his briefs and shielded himself with the door. "You should go, Steve," he said, nervously, trying to hide his left arm behind him. "You could get in trouble –"

"Don't ask me to go, Buck," he whispered, pleading, and stepped forward to lean against the door frame. Bucky couldn't help the shivers that traveled down his spine.

"This isn't a good idea," he whispered, though even he didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth and his left hand began to shake.

Steve observed him and asked, "Do you – do you want me to leave?" He suddenly looked unsure of himself and the predatory gaze fell away. Bucky took a deep breath and shook his head. Steve stepped forward and whispered, "I haven't stopped thinking about you this entire time." His stare was intense before he surged forward, taking Bucky's face in his hands and kissing him deeply.

Bucky responded immediately, sliding his hands up Steve's chest and around the back of his neck. His lips were so soft on Bucky's and the coarse hairs of his beard tickled Bucky's face. He smelled faintly sweet and tasted like mint. Steve kicked the door shut as quietly as possible behind them and ran his tongue along Bucky's bottom lip before sucking it between his own.

"Shit, Steve –" Bucky gasped when Steve bent down and gripped his thighs to lift him up. His legs wrapped around Steve's hips as he walked them across the small room and set Bucky on the desk.

Steve hitched Bucky's legs higher on his back, forcing him to lie down and allowing Steve to cover him with his body. He kissed Bucky roughly, grinding his hips into him. Bucky moaned as the desk creaked and Steve whispered, "Shhhh…" though Bucky wasn't sure who he was saying it to.

Steve sucked on Bucky's collar bone and slowed his movements. Bucky surged up to kiss Steve's lips, then his jaw, down his neck, and to his chest. Steve groaned and reached up to grab the edge of the desk, using it as leverage to rut faster.

"Stevie," Bucky gasped, slipping his fingers into Steve's hair and pulling him into a hard kiss. Bucky loved the way Steve kissed – hungry and powerful, using his weight and his body to cage Bucky in, but it felt like a release, like finally being able to breathe. This kiss was different than the last; it wasn't tinged by alcohol and guilt. He felt the intensity of Steve's desire but he also felt the affection behind the kisses.

He thought about what Natasha had said and he allowed the waves of his own feelings to wash over him without the shame that had accompanied them before.

He wouldn't say it but he could let himself feel it.

"Buck," Steve groaned back, dropping his head into the crook of Bucky's neck, biting the skin. The desk continuously creaked, no matter how slow their movements were and Steve growled, frustrated, and pulled back, gripping Bucky's thighs again and pulling him off of the table. He walked them over to the small bed and Bucky wondered, distantly, if they'd both fit as Steve laid him down and crawled over him, kissing him again.

Bucky reached down to get at Steve's pants but Steve grabbed his wrists and pressed them both into the mattress above his head, grinning into the kiss. Bucky almost whined but moaned instead when Steve breathed, "Keep your hands there." He kept one hand clasped over both of Bucky's wrists and ran his other thumb along Bucky's bottom lip, wiping some of the moisture away. "You've got such pretty lips, Buck," he whispered. Bucky licked the pad of his thumb, slowly, and Steve groaned, then his eyes lit up, like he'd thought of something exciting.

He began kissing down Bucky's neck, sucking on the pulse point, then biting the tendon, and definitely leaving a bruise just above his clavicle. He moved lower, licking over Bucky's chest, kissing the scars that marred the upper left part of his chest, which made Bucky's entire arm shake uncontrollably, then he latched onto his left nipple and drug his teeth over it until Bucky gasped, "Steve!"

He released it and let Bucky's wrists go as he continued, leaving open mouth kisses over his abdomen, paying special attention to the developing lines of his abs, and then he stopped to bite and lick Bucky's hip bones.

"Steve," Bucky gasped, jerking his hands, and Steve looked up, concerned. He whispered, looking down nervously, "You don't... You don't have to do anything."

Steve grinned and said, "I know." Then he returned his lips to Bucky's skin, nipping and licking from one hip to the other. His breath was hot on Bucky when he asked, "Do you want me to stop?"

Bucky could tell that he was checking in, making sure they were both on the same page, and the consideration for his emotional state mixed with the intensity of Steve's touches had Bucky's stomach clenching with desire and he moaned. It's everything I want in a partner, he thought to himself.

"N-no, I don't," he stuttered, "but we can go as s-slow as you want." Steve smiled up at him, showing so much emotion it made Bucky's chest ache. "Can I just…?" He asked, reaching down to pull on Steve's shirt a bit.

Steve chuckled and nodded, sitting up to accommodate and Bucky sat up too, taking hold of the t-shirt and yanking it over his head, exposing the most gorgeous chest he'd ever seen in his entire life. Tan, toned, and glorious, he gulped with wide eyes and reached his left hand out, running his palm over Steve's nipple.

"Is it bad that I want to say 'God bless America,' because I feel like I need to."

He laughed, "That sounds like a bad porn line."

Bucky raised an eyebrow, grinning and pinching Steve's nipple lightly. "Gay porn, Stevie?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to kiss Bucky again, pressing him back into the mattress and resting more of his weight on him. Bucky tried to reach out and feel more of the newly exposed skin but Steve nipped at his lips and said, "Put 'em back." His voice was harsh, aggressive, and Bucky could feel the pressure of Steve's erection against the back of his thigh. He wanted to reach down, to rub it, to encourage Steve, but just as he was moving his arms again, a vice-like grip encircled his wrists again. "I told you to keep 'em up there," he all but growled with a predatory look.

Bucky nodded, quickly, and relaxed his arms above his head, though his left shoulder had slightly less range of motion than the right. Steve grinned and pressed a chaste, approving kiss to Bucky's lips before moving down his body again. Bucky watched him, slack-jawed and totally unable to control the sounds he was making. Steve met his eyes and slid his fingers under the waistband of his briefs, waiting for a sign. Bucky bit his lip and nodded his head; just like that, Steve was pulling them down and moving so he could slip them off of Bucky's legs, leaving him totally exposed.

Bucky's cock was a decent size, he had always thought, and at that moment, it was red and leaking a small drop of pre-cum. Steve's eyes fixed on it and his mouth opened; even in the minimal light, Bucky could see the blush on his cheeks.

"I'm going to touch you," he said in a deep, harsh whisper.

Their eyes met and Steve's were bright and on fire. Bucky wondered if he could get through any touching without coming like some teenager. He just nodded his head and Steve moved back into his position between his legs, running his hands up Bucky's thighs, over his hips, along his abdomen, chest, and up to his shoulders. He slid them back down again, over Bucky's hardened nipples, making him gasp, before running them back down to his thighs.

Bucky's eyes were closed and he was trying to control his breathing, to focus on keeping it slow and even so he wouldn't just bust a nut. He'd never had a problem with this before; it took him forever to come when he was by himself, let alone with a partner. But something about Steve and the way he was looking at Bucky, like he was something precious and valuable, was making this so much more intense than any other sexual experience he could remember. He bit his lip, hard, and swallowed when Steve's touch ghosted near his cock. He had no idea how he'd survive if he actually wrapped his hand around it.

Suddenly, two of Steve's fingers were pressing against Bucky's lips. He opened his eyes and looked down to find Steve's piercing blue gaze on his face. "Show me," he whispered, blowing hot air over Bucky's cock.

Bucky knew what he meant; he knew exactly what Steve was getting at. He whined and nodded, taking the fingers in his mouth to the first knuckle. Steve's breath hitched at the sight and the feeling as Bucky licked around them. Steve used his other hand to gently lift Bucky's cock and parted his full lips to take the head into his mouth, licking in a circular motion too. Bucky groaned and nearly released his fingers when he felt the vibrations of Steve's own moan around him. Their eyes were locked, watching one another.

Bucky breathed through his nose and took more of the fingers into his mouth, sucking gently, and Steve mimicked him.

Captain America is sucking my dick, he thought and almost laughed but kept control of himself. His hands were gripping the edge of the mattress above him and his left arm was shaking as if it might give out at any moment but he held on.

He had to.

Steve's tongue was talented and Bucky was desperate for it; he couldn't understand how someone who had never done this could make a man crave this way. He leaned up more to deep-throat Steve's fingers and oh my God, Steve copied the motion. Bucky pulled back and licked up the length of Steve's fingers, then back down, mouthing the palm, and Steve released him, licking along the underside of his cock, then sucking on of his balls into his mouth. Bucky's toes were curling and nearly every breath was a moan. He sucked Steve's fingers back into his mouth and bobbed up and down on them.

He knew he was getting close and he didn't know whether to release Steve's fingers or move his hands but he couldn't really think too hard about it because his eyes were rolling in the back of his head at the intense feeling of Steve swallowing around him.

"Steve," he gasped, trying to speak around the fingers in his mouth. "You have to – I'm close –" and Steve released him with a 'pop.'

Bucky let his head drop to the pillow and he couldn't help but whine at the loss of contact. Steve's voice was so deep, it surprised Bucky when he said, "I wanna make you come, Buck." He waited for a response and Bucky knew that Steve was checking in with him again. All he could do was nod before Steve's mouth was on him, taking him all the way in and Bucky's arms moved of their own accord; his fingers gripped Steve's soft hair. He sucked hard, taking as much of Bucky into his mouth as he could.

"S-Steve, I'm gonna –" and his room disappeared into whiteness as he came. His stomach clenched and his left hand dropped to the bed, totally weak. A few moments passed and he returned to awareness, feeling Steve's weight on him, kissing his lips sweetly.

"Hi," Steve said, grinning, and kissed him again. "You went somewhere."

"Hi," Bucky replied, but when he tasted himself on Steve's tongue, embarrassment hit him like a truck. "Oh my God," he whispered and grabbed the pillow with his right hand to cover his face; his left hand was still shaking. "I'm sorry, I tried to stop."

Steve pulled the pillow away and kissed him again and whispered, "It's okay. I want to experience every part of you, Buck." Steve pulled him back into a deep kiss and Bucky freely ran his hands over Steve's back and down over his clothed ass. Steve groaned into Bucky's ear, "Fuck, what I want to do to you."

"T-tell me," he whispered.

"Yeah?" Steve said, biting Bucky's neck. "You want to hear what I'm going to do to you?"

"Please," he whispered, nodding and breathing faster and heavier than he could ever remember doing before.

"I want to fuck your mouth, feel your pretty lips on my dick," he whispered, his breath hot on Bucky's earlobe. "I want to suck you and eat you, open you up and make you beg me to fuck you." He kissed along Bucky's jaw. "Tie you down and smack that smart ass 'til it's all red and you can't sit down without thinking of me." He bit Bucky's bottom lip, sucking it between his own. "Bite you hard and fuck you harder, fill you up over and over."

"Jesus," Bucky whispered, meeting his eyes, "you've got a filthy mouth."

"You don't like it?" He asked, grinning and cocking an eyebrow.

"Fuck yes, I do," he replied, gripping Steve's ass harder.

"Thought so," he replied. "I wanna bend you over the sink in the bathroom at Benny's, take you in the alley outside Stark, fuck you on every piece of furniture in my office, wanna mark you up as mine."

"Yes," he breathed; his entire body was shaking with desire. He knew he couldn't get hard again but he felt like he could come again.

"You want that? Want everyone to know you're mine?" Bucky nodded, desperately. "Say it," Steve growled. "I want you to say it."

Bucky whined, "Y-yours, I wanna –" He licked his lips. "I wanna be yours."

"What else do you want?" He whispered.

"I want to touch you, make you come too," Bucky slid his fingers around Steve's hips to find the button on his jeans. "Can I?" Steve sat up; his pupils were blown wide and his lips were swollen, either from their kissing or from Steve biting them.

Steve stood up and Bucky knelt on the floor, looking up at his impressive form. The lines of Steve's body all seemed to lead down – his chest, abs, and those gorgeous lines of his hips – and Bucky ran his hands up Steve's abdomen, over his chest, followed by his mouth. His breathing changed and Bucky could see the muscles clenching beneath the skin as he was unzipping Steve's jeans and yanking them down around his thighs. The length that was still trapped in Steve's briefs was as impressive as the rest of him and Bucky needed to see it. He had quite a bit of practice at this and his favorite part was discovering all the right buttons to push.

He sat back on his haunches and looked up at Steve, meeting his gaze. "May I suck your cock, Stevie?"

Steve grinned and, despite how badly he clearly wanted it, he said, "Hmm," rocking his head from side to side, as if considering the options, "I don't know."

Bucky grinned back and sat up a bit, licking his lips. "Please, Stevie, I want it."

The flash of sheer lust that crossed Steve's features told Bucky he was on the right track; Steve ran his thumb along Bucky's bottom lip and whispered, "How bad?"

Bucky licked the pad of his thumb again, making Steve swallow hard, and said, "I want it so bad, Stevie, I've wanted it for so long."

Steve wrapped his fingers in Bucky's hair, still damp from the shower, and asked, "How long?" His eyes were filled with lust, but there was something else too, something hopeful.

Bucky groaned when his hands gripped the strands a bit harder and he whispered, "Since Afghanistan."

"Oh fuck," Steve moaned and nodded his head, unable to keep up the act of indifference.

Bucky gripped the waistband of his briefs, sparing one final glance at Steve to make sure he was okay – he was very okay if the lustful gaze and heavy breathing meant anything – and then he pulled them down too. When his cock sprang free, Bucky couldn't control the moan he released and he immediately wrapped one hand around the base. Steve hissed at the contact but Bucky didn't move.

"Your cock is so pretty, Stevie," he whispered, feeling its weight and looking over the veins and the color before he leaned forward.

He didn't open his mouth very much as he ran his lips along the underside, from base to tip, then he stuck his tongue out, licking the slit and fucking his tongue into it. Steve's grip tightened in his hair but released and Bucky began leaving wet, sloppy kisses down the underside, hearing Steve's breath hitch with each one. Bucky ran his left hand up Steve's inner thigh to cup his balls, squeezing them gently and rolling them. The sound Steve made was undignified, nearly desperate, and Bucky finally took the tip into his mouth.

Steve's head was back and his mouth was open, gasping, as Bucky sucked gently, then took more of him into his mouth, humming.

"Oh," Steve gasped, "That's so good, Buck."

He pulled back and pressed his tongue against the underside of the head, then let it rest and sucked. He grabbed Steve's hips with both hands, taking him almost all the way into his mouth. Steve's breaths were coming out fast and when Bucky looked up, their eyes met. Steve's pupils were so wide, he could hardly see the blue, and Bucky held his gaze.

"Fuck, Bucky," he groaned and it was clear that Steve liked watching him do this.

He pulled back and licked around the tip some more, focusing all of his attention on the head before licking along the underside of it and sucking one of Steve's balls into his mouth.

Steve shut his eyes, leaning back against the wall and groaning, "That's so good, so, so good."

Bucky let his eyes fall closed. He licked the length of his cock before taking it into his mouth again, bobbing his head back and forth. He felt the saliva dripping out of his mouth but he didn't care and, when Steve wiped some away with his thumb, he moaned around his cock.

"Ah! Ah… ah fuck, Bucky –" Bucky looked up at him then and Steve whispered, "Let me."

Bucky felt the grip on his hair tighten and he relaxed his mouth as Steve began thrusting, fast but shallow, avoiding ramming into the back of Bucky's throat and making him gag. Steve's legs were starting to quiver and he moaned, quietly, but Bucky could tell he was struggling to control himself. Bucky hollowed his cheeks, sucking as Steve thrusted forward and gasped. He bent forward, putting his hand on Bucky's shoulder.

"Ah...ah, Buck, you're so good… Oh, God, I'm gonna…"

Bucky sucked harder and Steve's thrusts went deeper until he stilled, grunting quietly, and Bucky felt hot liquid on his tongue.

He swallowed it down without a second thought, watching the way Steve's eyes darkened when he realized that Bucky had done it. He lifted Bucky up by his armpits, kissing him hard, and Bucky wrapped his hands around the back of Steve's neck.

"I'm not gonna lie," Steve whispered, "That was probably the best blowjob of my life."

Bucky kissed him again, grinning like an idiot. Steve pulled his briefs back up but kicked his jeans off his feet. Bucky found his underwear and pulled them on too.

"So, uh," Steve said, sitting down on the bed. "I guess we should talk?" Bucky chewed the corner of his lips and nodded, suddenly nervous. He wasn't sure where to sit. He moved toward the foldable chair and Steve said, "You can sit here, if you want," gesturing to the spot by him. "It is your bed."

"Okay," Bucky said, walking back to the bed and sitting about a foot away from Steve.

Steve let his head fall back and he sighed, loudly, "Bucky Barnes, just get over here!"

"Okay, okay!" Bucky replied, scooting over.

Steve lay down on the bed on his right side and wrapped his arm around Bucky, pulling him to lie down so they were facing each other. Bucky was surprised how something so simple could feel so intimate; it didn't hurt that the bed was tiny.

Steve wasn't wearing his shirt and Bucky ran the fingers of his right hand over his chest. He was so nervous, he kept his eyes focused on the lines of Steve's pectorals.

"Buck," he whispered, touching Bucky's cheek with his palm, "did you mean it when you said you've wanted me since… since we were overseas?"

Bucky looked up at him and nodded, "Yeah, I – I don't remember after... you know, but I remember when we first met."

"You liked me then?" He asked, a little surprised.

Bucky thought for a moment, but shook his head, "No, well, yes – I mean, I thought you were attractive, physically, but the more time I spent with you, the more I heard about you from the other guys, and the way you treated your unit – all of it." He licked his lips and Steve leaned in to press a kiss to them, small and chaste, as if he couldn't help himself. Bucky smiled at the thought that Steve was struggling to control himself just as much as Bucky had been. "But I realized it was beyond physical when my sister called and you found me on the floor. You didn't yell at me or call me a 'pussy' for crying." Steve's thumb wiped a tear from Bucky's eye, though he wasn't sure when he had started crying. He finished, "You just held me."

Steve's smile was warm and comforting and he leaned in again, pressing more kisses over Bucky's face – his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, chin, and finally his lips. Bucky chewed the corner of his lips for a moment, nervous to ask the questions he wanted to.

"When did you, um, realize you like me?"

Steve took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, thinking. "Well, I know when I knew that's what it was but I also know, um, the things that I didn't recognize at the time." Bucky waited, tracing his fingers over Steve's skin. "When I found you crying, you know, I had this feeling in my gut but I just thought I felt sorry for you, even though it didn't seem that way to me. Then, after you kept saving my ass, my respect for you grew." He paused a moment before adding, "I know you don't remember that.

"It all faded when you rotated home, though; but when you walked into the interview, it was a rush of… something." He paused for a moment, rubbing his chin, and Bucky saw the scruff that had been pricking his skin. "But I could tell that you didn't… remember me, so I ignored it. But every time I was near you, I had this… nervous feeling.

"I mean, I'd never even thought about another guy, apart from, like, thinking someone looked good in passing, but it never made me question my sexuality." He chuckled to himself and leaned forward to kiss Bucky's lips, softly. "But my… reactions to things like that guy at the coffee shop and when I woke up holding you, I couldn't keep denying it." He looked over Bucky's face and touched his damp hair, admiring the length. "I must have talked about you a lot because Sharon was constantly pissed about it, but I didn't see why. Then Nat, sort of, pointed it out to me and it all just… clicked." He kissed Bucky, slowly, and Bucky reached up to grip his neck, deepening the kiss.

They separated and Bucky asked with a smirk, "How did you react to holding me?"

Steve's cheeks were pink when he answered, "I, uh, I got an erection." Bucky tried not to chuckle but failed. "Laugh it up," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "But I swear, I didn't intend to jump you on the camping trip. Even though I don't regret that it happened." Bucky's brows furrowed and Steve said, quickly, "I regret that it happened while I was with someone else, I do regret that. I regret that I was too nervous to just talk to you about it.

"I kept waiting for the right time; I'd find you and we'd sit and talk for hours but I couldn't just tell you how I felt. I was scared," he said, looking down, embarrassed. "When I got back, Sharon tried to pretend we were okay but I couldn't anymore. I told her that I was moving out and I took my stuff to Natasha's. Well – some of it. I got the rest over the last week."

The reality of the situation struck Bucky; Steve had only been single for one week. He hesitated a moment before asking, "Do you… need more time?" It was Steve's turn to furrow his brows, confused. "I mean," Bucky said, nervously, "maybe we're just fuckin' around. Nothin' wrong with not being ready for, um…" He stopped there; his voice was shaking and he was glad he was lying on his left arm.

Steve pulled back to look at Bucky's face. "That's not what I want," he said, firmly. "If that's what you want, I'll work with it, but I want you."

Bucky took a deep breath and said, "Steve, I don't want to be a rebound." He was sure that this was more than that but Steve had even admitted that he'd never been attracted to a man before. Bucky needed to be sure.

"Buck, you're not, you –" He pressed closer, using his hand on Bucky's cheek to force him to look up and meet Steve's gaze. "God, Buck, you're everything."

Bucky tried to suppress his smile as he said, "Didn't know you were such a sap, Rogers."

Steve smiled too, "You ain't seen nothing' yet."

They lay together, simply touching and holding each other for what felt like hours. It was comforting to be in Steve's embrace; he felt warm and safe. It was euphoric – he could touch Steve now. Not in any and all situations, of course, but he didn't have to feel guilty for it anymore. Steve seemed just as happy to be able to run his hands freely over Bucky's skin and in his hair. He touched Bucky's cheek, then his neck, kissed his forehead, and the tip of his nose.

Bucky yawned and said, "You probably have to leave, right?"

Steve checked his wrist watch and nodded, "Yeah, this isn't something we should be caught doing."

Bucky hesitated a moment before asking, "So, are we… something?"

Steve looked at him. "Do you want us to be something?"

Bucky licked his lips and met his eyes, "I said I wanna be yours."

Steve bit his lip and his eyes darkened with lust. He leaned in to kiss Bucky, hard, sucking on his bottom lip, then nipped at it before their tongues met. He pulled back, looking over Bucky's face. "I'll see you tomorrow," was all he said and then he stood up, grabbing his shirt and pants off of the floor.

Bucky sat up, "I work –"

"I know," Steve interrupted, smiling, and pulled his shirt on, then he leaned over and kissed Bucky's lips, soft and affectionate. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said again and pressed a final kiss to Bucky's lips. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Stevie," Bucky said, smiling back, as Steve opened the door and stepped into the hall, quietly.

* * *

Bucky awoke at eight-thirty the next morning but, when he looked at the clock, he couldn't believe it. He hadn't slept so late in a long time. He rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, remembering what happened the night before. "Jesus," he whispered, rubbing his face with both of his hands.

He got up and pulled his tank top on, then found his gym shorts to wear as he walked the short distance to the bathroom. He stepped over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror; he was in need of a shave but, otherwise, he was looking more like himself than he had in years. His cheeks weren't sunken in, there were no dark circles beneath his eyes, and he was on his way to a healthy weight.

He began running his comb through is hair when he noticed it – a lovely, purple bruise just above his collar bone, about the size of a quarter. He ran his fingertips over it, lightly, and felt a small, sharp pain; his eyelids fluttered at the sensation. It was exhilarating to feel even the hints of what could be for them.

When he'd explained his preferences to Steve in the woods, he hadn't expected him to understand them so well. He had never considered himself a "sub," necessarily, but the prospect of that with Steve was enough to have his heart pounding.

His stomach growled, suddenly, knocking him from his reverie. He brushed his teeth and finished combing his hair; after some consideration, he decided to leave it down. When he returned to his room, he pulled on a pair of jeans and a gray polo with a collar to cover the bruise, and then he slipped on his sneakers. After he was dressed, he went downstairs to stand in line at the soup kitchen.

It was going to be a bit of a wait; he spent the time reminiscing about the night before. Memories of the things that they had done made butterflies erupt in his stomach. He couldn't help but touch the bruise, hidden beneath his shirt collar. The image of Steve's naked body – his broad chest, toned abs, and gorgeous cock – the sounds he made, how he sounded when he came, all of it had Bucky reeling.

Mark you up as mine

I wanna be yours.

Buck, you're everything.

He shivered at the memory and took a deep breath, wondering how he would make it through the day. His left arm was already trembling but he couldn't explain why.

The woman in front of him turned around, smiling. "Bucky, right?" She asked.

He looked up and replied, "Hey, Hope."

"You've got a better memory than me," she said, smiling. "I haven't seen you around much."

He smiled and nodded, "I've been working."

"Right, at Stark?" He nodded and she went quiet.

He said, "I haven't breathed a word to Scott. I just want you to know that."

They remained there for some time, not speaking but remaining together as the line moved forward. She looked up at him and smiled as they got close to the door, then said, "I appreciate your understanding that, Bucky." She reached her hand out and touched his left arm for a moment before she dropped it back down.

The gesture was so normal but it made Bucky's left hand twitch; he tried to cover it up with a smile though he didn't think it was effective. He was about to speak when someone else did. "Hey Buck," Steve said, coming up alongside them, wearing a black t-shirt and old jeans; Bucky was sure that this was actually Steve's style and he bit his lip against the impulse to tell him how good he looked. "You ready to go?" He asked.

Bucky looked at him, feeling confused about why he was there on a Saturday at nine in the morning. However, he nodded his head, almost unaware that he was doing it. "Um, yeah," he said, quietly.

Steve's smile was sincere when he turned to Hope and said, "Hey Hope, how are you?" But there was something in his eyes that seemed off to Bucky.

"Good, Steve," she said, smiling; she seemed to be totally unaware of whatever it was that Bucky noticed. She simply asked, "And you?"

He nodded and said, "Good, just offered to take Bucky to buy some more work clothes."

She nodded her head to him and waved to Bucky as they walked down the street. He was blinking, looking at Steve, as they rounded the corner toward the parking garage. They walked through the door to reach the elevator and Steve pressed the 'up' button, chewing on his lip as they waited. When the doors opened, it was empty; they walked in and Bucky waited while Steve picked the level he had parked on.

As the doors closed, Bucky said, "I don't need clothes." He ignored the tremor in his hand and tried to suppress the urge to reach out and touch Steve.

That was when he turned to Bucky, as if he had only just realized that he was there, and launched forward. Steve's hands held his face as his body pressed Bucky back against the elevator wall; their lips met in a passionate kiss that seemed to knock the wind out of Bucky's lungs. He reached up to grip Steve's t-shirt at the waist, pulling him closer, and opened his mouth to allow Steve's tongue access.

They separated when the elevator sounded, telling them they'd reached the parking garage level they needed, but they didn't move from the wall. Steve pressed his forehead against Bucky's as they breathed together. The look on his face didn't seem quite right; it was a bit tense and after a moment, he asked, "You know Hope?"

Bucky cocked and eyebrow and smirked, "Jealous, Stevie?"

Steve's eyes darkened – not in anger or fear, but in lust. "Thought you wanted to be mine," he said, kissing Bucky's jaw, making him moan.

"God, Stevie," he whispered as hot lips and teeth found his earlobe.

"Did you mean it?" Steve whispered and a shiver erupted over Bucky's skin; his left arm was shaking and he felt his grip on Steve's shirt become more tenuous.

Bucky meant it; he meant every single word. Of course, he did. He'd been falling for longer than he could even guess. But did Steve mean it? Because if Steve didn't want him or changed his mind, what would Bucky do?

He couldn't see any point in putting it off or lying, trying to pretend he wasn't already desperate for Steve – his touch, his kiss, his words, filthy as they were. No point in pretending he wasn't everything Bucky wanted in a partner. No point in denying just how far he would go to make Steve happy.

No point at all.

"I am yours," he finally said. "If you still –" But before he could finish, Steve was kissing him and wrapping him up in his arms.

Vaguely, Bucky heard the elevator sound and the doors began to shut again but they didn't stop. Their lips melded together, softer this time; still passionate, still heated, but not rushed.

Steve pulled back and pressed his forehead against Bucky's again as they both caught their breath. "Of course, I still want you," he whispered, leaving a small kiss on Bucky's cheek, and then he pressed the button to open the elevator doors. When they stepped onto the concrete, he held out his right hand to Bucky and said, "Let's go get breakfast."

Bucky hesitated for only a moment before extending his left hand to take Steve's and followed him through the garage to his SUV. They drove out of the garage and traveled in the morning traffic for a short time, then Steve parked on the street.

"There's a bakery I love down here," he said, smiling.

"Don't tell May," Bucky smiled. "She'd be devastated."

Steve chuckled as they walked about a half-block up and stopped at a small, quaint coffee shop. "What do you want to drink?" Steve asked, stepping toward the counter.

"I can buy it," Bucky protested.

Steve turned around and fixed him with a look. "Let me," was all he said, but his tone suggested he was not open to discussion. "Grab us a table."

"I'll take a blended mocha and, um, a bagel," Bucky said before he turned to locate a table that was a bit out of the way of other people. He sat down and watched for Steve and, a few minutes later, he was coming through the crowd. He was awkwardly holding two drinks and two plates of food. Bucky felt nervous, suddenly, and wondered Is this a date?

Steve set the cups and plates on the table and took the seat across from Bucky. They stared at one another for a moment before Steve said, "Let's eat and then we should talk more."

Bucky nodded and took a drink from his straw before spreading the cream cheese on his bagel. They ate silently, stealing glances at each other regularly. When Bucky's bagel was gone, he dropped his napkin and said, "You asked what I look for in a partner, but you never told me." Steve looked up at him but continued chewing his food; Bucky took a breath, trying to shove down the nervous tension in his gut, before asking, "Was last night okay? I mean, uh, are you into that stuff, or were you just, uh, doing what you thought I wanted?"

Steve seemed to think the question over as he chewed and swallowed the final bite of his food. "Last night was everything I wanted it to be and more. You were incredible; you listened and followed my instructions," he said, smiling. "You were so good for me."

Bucky let the praise wash over him and he smiled as the warmth of Steve's words filled him. "Are you, um, a Dom?" He asked, biting his lip.

Steve had just been lifting his cup to take a drink when Bucky asked and he halted his movements at the word. He considered for a moment before he answered, "I've never called myself that but I do enjoy a lot of what those relationships entail. I've dated a few women who described themselves as 'subs,' but I mostly engage in those roles, um, in the bedroom," He said, looking around to make sure no one was looking at them. "Or, I did. Sharon – well, she didn't." He said, looking out the windows; there were warring emotions on his face, as if he couldn't decide whether to be angry or sad.

The light that came in made his blue eyes almost silver and Bucky was struck by the beauty of this man. He swallowed and said, "Can I ask about it?"

Steve looked back at him and nodded, saying, "You can ask me anything, Buck."

He nodded and said, "Did you stop, um, doing it because you wanted to?"

Steve took a drink from his cup before answering, "No, I didn't." He chewed his lip for a moment while Bucky waited, patiently. "Sharon, uh, she, I – shit," he whispered, rubbing his face. "This is so hard." Bucky reached over and took Steve's hand in his left, gripping it as tightly as he could; Steve's lips turned up in a small smile and he gripped back. "She, uh, made me stop. It happened slowly at first, but then it wasn't just changing me in the bedroom. It was everywhere." He sucked his lips into his mouth and then continued, "Pretty much everything I enjoyed, she made me stop doing." He sighed and added, "But, I think you already know that I'm perfectly able to suppress parts of myself."

Bucky's left hand was shaking with the effort to grip Steve's hand but he didn't let up. "Now you can be yourself."

Steve smiled and a blush spread across his cheeks. "I like being myself with you."

Bucky licked his lips and smiled, too. "I like it too."

Steve drank the last of his coffee and set the cup down on the table. His tone was light and playful as he said, "Good, 'cause if I see you flirt with anyone again, I'll take you over my knee."

"You were jealous because of Hope?" Bucky asked, grinning.

"It's not – it's…" Steve couldn't seem to find the words he wanted to say.

Bucky took a breath; this was not going to be an easy question. He said, "Just tell me, are you possessive or worried that I'll cheat on you?"

Steve shook his head, furrowing his brows. "No, Buck," he said. "I didn't… I didn't like that she touched you." He swallowed and met Bucky's stare. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"Fuck no," Bucky replied, immediately. "I could've dropped to my knees at Benny's after the thing with that investor."

Steve cocked an eyebrow and glanced around to make sure that no one in the bakery was listening to them. "I'd like to see that," he said. "But you, uh, you like possessive?"

Bucky shrugged, picking up his drink, "Figured that'd be obvious by now."

Steve leaned forward, whispering in a low voice, "Say it."

Bucky smirked at him, "I'm yours."

Steve's look became dark, lustful, and he said, "Mine."

"You're staying at Natasha's?" Bucky asked. "She home?"

Steve smirked, checking his watch. "Nope."

"Cool," Bucky replied, feeling a bit dazed. "Maybe, you wanna invite me over?"

"Fuck yeah."

* * *

They stumbled through the door of Natasha's apartment, their lips locked together and their hands everywhere. Bucky was walking backward, being directed by Steve, though his eyes were closed too, and they nearly tripped a couple of times but, somehow, remained standing. Bucky's heels hit something and Steve took the opportunity to bend down and grab his thighs, lifting him up.

"Wrap your legs around me," he ordered and Bucky complied.

They kissed as Steve walked them through the apartment to his bedroom. When they toppled onto the bed without ceremony, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's body and lifted him, using his legs to propel them toward the head of the bed. Bucky gripped Steve's hair, turning his head to deepen the kiss but Steve grabbed his wrists to press them against the pillows.

"You move your arms, I stop," he whispered. "You gonna be good for me?"

Bucky nodded, nibbling his lip. "I wanna be good."

Steve smiled and said, "Oh, I know you do." He kissed along Bucky's cheek, down his jaw, and then bit down on his earlobe. Bucky let out a surprised yelp and Steve whispered in his ear, "And you're not gonna want me to stop."

Bucky shook his head, "God, no."

Steve's hands released Bucky's wrists and he, immediately, began working on yanking Bucky's shirt over his head and exploring the exposed skin with his lips and hands. He kissed down Bucky's collar bone and made a point to pay attention to the bruise there before he made his way to Bucky's left nipple; he lapped it with his tongue and then bit down, hard enough to hurt.

"Fuck, Steve," Bucky gasped out; his lungs were working on overdrive. Steve began unbuttoning Bucky's jeans as he left more dark purple bruises all over his abdomen. "St-Steve," he gasped, "please, t-tell me what you're g-gonna do to me."

"Oh, baby," Steve groaned, yanking Bucky's pants down his thighs. "I'm gonna feel you come with my fingers inside you."

"Oh my God," Bucky groaned, letting himself be divested of his clothes.

Steve sat back on his knees and looked over Bucky's naked body, licking his lips. "But only if you behave."

Bucky nodded his head, "Yes, yes," desperately gripping the headboard to keep from moving. His left arm shook with the effort but he couldn't care less.

In his mind, he was aware that Steve was still dressed but it was difficult to focus on anything because Steve was kissing down his abdomen, sucking more marks into his skin, and running his hands up the outside of Bucky's thighs.

Steve licked a stripe over the tattoo on Bucky's ribs and whispered, "What is this?"

Bucky was struggling to focus, but he glanced down and said, "Судьба, it means 'd-destiny.'"

Steve moved to the other side and began kissing the black birds flying around Bucky's ribs to his back. "And these?"

"Five brothers lost in – in combat," he whispered, though it came out like a moan. He didn't elaborate that they had died in an IED hit that left Bucky hospitalized with shrapnel wounds; he didn't explain that each bird covered a scar from the attack.

Steve moved down to Bucky's hips and licked the length of his pelvis, over his other tattoo. "And this?"

Bucky's breathing was coming in harsh pants, but he did his best to pronounce the Russian correctly. "возвращение домой, it means 'homecoming.'" Bucky didn't tell Steve that Pietro had had a matching one or that the tattoo covered scars from knife wounds.

Steve's right hand traced the outline of the red flower on Bucky's left thigh. "This?"

"Chrysanthemum," he answered, then went on. "M-my sister's birth flower," he said, feeling his entire body trembling with the effort to hold still. The image was rather large and was one of the more difficult tattoos to get done because it covered a burn scar.

Steve kissed his way back up Bucky's body to his ear, whispering, "Any others?"

Bucky nodded his head but couldn't speak; instead he twisted to show Steve his right shoulder blade. It read 'солдат,' which meant 'soldier' and concealed the mark where a john had slashed him with a razor blade.

Tattooing over scar tissue was more expensive, took longer, and had a lower success rate, but it was worth the pain. Each piece covered a mark of shame for Bucky and the largest was, of course, the piece on his arm. Steve's fingers idly traced the lines of the metal plates that covered his arm from shoulder to elbow; he didn't ask about that one.

Steve's touch was light as he examined the images closely. "You have a lot of scars," he said, carefully. "From combat?"

Bucky swallowed and answered, "Some."

"Why are these in Russian?" Steve whispered, changing the subject.

"M-my grandma was a Russian immigrant," he stuttered. "Sh-she made sure I was fluent."

Steve cocked his eyebrow and gave Bucky a voracious grin. "Tell me something."

Bucky shuddered at the way Steve's voice sounded and he nodded. "Пожалуйста. Больше." Please. More.

Steve didn't stop to ask what he had said; he returned to his earlier ministrations with a renewed intensity. As both Steve's lips and fingers came closer to meeting, Bucky's breathing became harsher, more intense; each exhale was a moan he couldn't contain and he felt that quiver in his entire body, not only his left arm. His body was overly sensitive and, even if he wouldn't move his arms, his toes curled and his back arched against Steve's mouth.

"St-Steve," he gasped when he felt hot breath on his cock. "D-don't stop, please don't fucking stop," he begged, arching his back more when Steve's hands gripped his hips.

"Ask me," Steve ordered, rubbing circles over Bucky's skin.

"Please?" He whispered.

"Please, what?"

He whined, helplessly, and looked down to meet Steve's eyes. "U-use your mouth a-and your fingers."

Before Bucky could even take a breath, Steve had swallowed him down all the way to the root and, luckily, he still had a hold of Bucky's hips, otherwise, they would have begun fucking up into that wet heat.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

That mouth was sin.

How is he so good at this? Bucky wondered with the small part of his brain that could still function.

He heard the headboard making a strange sound underneath his grip but it was incidental. How could he care about anything when Steve hummed around him, used his tongue and even his teeth to send sparks up Bucky's spine?

He wanted so desperately to grip Steve's soft hair but he would keep his arms where they were. Bucky's left hand was shaking so hard, he could hear the wood of the headboard rock against the wall but Steve either hadn't noticed or wasn't bothered by it.

One of Steve's strong hands released its grip on Bucky's hip only to slide along his inner thigh and beneath it to hoist his right leg over Steve's shoulder. He opened his eyes when he felt that same hand leave his skin and heard Steve digging in the drawer by the bed.

He watched Steve pull a bottle of lube out of the bedside table but Steve's bobbing head reclaimed his focus almost immediately. He pulled off of Bucky's cock and began licking along the underside, taking one of his balls into his hot mouth.

Steve sat back and popped the lid off of the bottle, then peeled the metallic seal away from the opening. Bucky cocked an eyebrow and smirked when Steve looked at him.

"I did some research," he said, defensively.

Bucky grinned, "You're such a good boy scout."

Steve leaned back over him. "Oh baby," he whispered and nipped at Bucky's bottom lip. "I'll show you how good."

"Oh my God," he groaned, helplessly, his hips jerked out of his control, and his thigh tightened around Steve's back. "Steve!" He cried out when Steve took him all the way into his mouth again, swallowing around him.

In the next moment, a cool, slick finger was pressing against Bucky's ass and his gasp turned into a groan as it breached him, slowly. Steve began sucking harder, bobbing his head faster, and Bucky thought he might burst. But that wasn't what Steve wanted.

"Steve –" he gasped, trying to pull away. "I can't – I'm so close," and Steve pulled away, entirely. The sight was enough to nearly make Bucky come anyway – Steve's lips were red and swollen, there was a pre-come and spit on his chin, and his pupils were blown wide.

"Not yet," Steve whispered and he slid his finger all the way inside. "Not. Yet."

It had been a while since Bucky had bottomed; several months at least. It wasn't entirely uncomfortable but he knew they couldn't rush through it. Steve seemed to understand this as well and, when Bucky whispered, "Go s-slow," he simply nodded his head.

Steve moved up and kissed him, not removing that sweet pressure.

"Bucky," Steve's voice drew him back to the present. "Tell me when you want more."

"Fuck, Steve," Bucky groaned, "yes."

Steve didn't move.

"Yes, please, more," he tried again, but Steve remained still. His voice was absolutely desperate when he cried out, "Please, Stevie! Don't stop, please, what the fuck do you want me to say?"

Steve huffed a little laugh, "Calm down. I've got you."

Steve slipped his finger all the way out and, after a moment of emptiness, two points of pressure were pushing into him. Bucky gasped and his sweaty hands slipped off of the headboard but he gripped his left wrist to hold them in place. Steve noticed but didn't stop his ministrations. He covered Bucky's body with his own, using his unoccupied hand to hold himself up as he regarded Bucky's face.

Steve twisted his hand, experimentally, and Bucky's back arched, and a sob forced its way out of his lungs. His eyes were shut tight and his head was thrown back. "Fuck, oh fuck," he gasped, feeling the tips of Steve's fingers brush his prostate. His shoulder ached but he didn't care and, when Steve did it again, Bucky's body jerked. "An-another," he begged, "Please, Steve."

It wasn't but a moment before three fingers were pressing inside him and Bucky's arms were shaking with more than just tension. "What do you want, Buck?" He whispered.

"I – I –" he tried but Steve's fingers were relentless once they had found that spot. "Steve," he breathed through another sob.

"I'm here," he said, rubbing in a circular pattern that made Bucky's entire body feel like a taut wire, ready to snap. "You gonna come?" Steve's voice almost sounded like a moan of its own and all Bucky could do was nod, desperately. "Look at me," Steve ordered and Bucky grit his teeth and looked up, meeting Steve's gaze.

"Oh my God, oh my God, Steve," he moaned, getting louder. He was so close but something wasn't enough; his body was tense and he felt his balls tighten but he couldn't. He didn't understand what was holding him back; Steve was with him, he was right there with heat and fondness in his eyes and Bucky wanted to give this to him. "Steve, I – I, fuck," his eyes were watering and, suddenly, he knew what he needed. "C-can I?"

"Good boy," Steve's approving and affectionate smile was almost enough, until he whispered. "Come for me."

Bucky's hips jerked and his thighs came up, tightening around Steve's hips, and his hands flew down, grabbing those muscular shoulders – none of which Bucky could control as he came with a choked out groan. Everything was white and the sensation of being filled, of having Steve inside him made the moment so much more intense.

Bucky had tried, desperately, to keep his eyes open but they must have closed at some point. When he came to, Steve was kissing him – his cheeks, forehead, nose, eyes, and lips – and touching his face, softly, wiping Bucky's tears away with his clean hand.

"You did so good, baby," Steve whispered, then leaned back and reached to the floor. He came up with a white t-shirt, which he used to wipe Bucky's chest off as well as his own hand. He leaned over and continued pressing kisses and whispering endearments across Bucky's skin.

"Um," Bucky began and Steve sat back, waiting. "Can I touch you?" He asked in a whisper and Steve nodded.

Reaching out, Bucky grabbed Steve's shirt and pulled on it with his right hand, silently asking him to come closer. He obliged Bucky's request and crawled over him, smiling and biting his lip.

"What do you want me to do, Stevie?"

Steve's pupils were so wide, Bucky could scarcely make out the blue, and he began pulling Steve's t-shirt up, exposing mouthwatering muscles. Steve adjusted his body to allow the shirt to be removed, and then lowered to press his body against Bucky's, though he still kept the bulk of his weight on his forearms.

Steve remained silent and Bucky took a shaky breath before he whispered, "You want me to touch you? Use my hands?" Steve's breath hitched and his eyes widened, as if he hadn't anticipated that Bucky would talk that way. "I could make you come so hard," he whispered and Steve actually groaned.

Bucky ran his hands over Steve's chest, down his abdomen, to his jeans, and then unbuttoned them. He slid the zipper down and slipped his hand beneath Steve's briefs, all while keeping his eyes trained of Steve's face. Steve's eyes fell shut when Bucky's right hand wrapped around his cock and began pumping at a slow pace.

With his left, Bucky began pushing Steve's pants down and he seemed to get the idea, finally kicking them off, along with his underwear. Once the garments were out of the way, Bucky sped up his ministrations and Steve began breathing faster, moaning quietly.

"You like that? Feeling my hand on your big cock?"

Steve moaned and his eyes opened, suddenly, meeting Bucky's. The sheer lust that was displayed in them made Bucky feel braver, spurred him on.

"Fuck, Stevie, I love the way you feel," he whispered. "I can't wait to feel the way you stretch me open."

The sound Steve made was like the air was punched from his lungs, then he followed it with a deep growl, and Bucky moved his hand faster. He ran his left hand over Steve's supple ass and then back around to cup his balls. They were tight and Bucky could tell he was close.

"You wanna come?" He asked, letting the desire he felt slip into his own voice, and Steve groaned, nodding. "You wanna come on me?" That elicited a truly vulgar sound from Steve's lips and Bucky grinned. "You wanna mark me up, Stevie? Get it all over my chest and face?"

Steve nearly choked as he came, shooting hot liquid across Bucky's abdomen, chest, and hitting his chin. As Steve watched, Bucky stuck his tongue out and lapped up as much as he could reach.

"Fuck, Bucky," Steve groaned, bringing his hand up to thumb more of it into Bucky's waiting lips. Bucky licked around his finger, holding Steve's gaze as he did. "You are so amazing," Steve whispered, though his voice was so quiet, it was as if he was saying it to himself.

Steve used the same shirt as before to wipe Bucky off again, then laid down alongside him and pulled Bucky's body against his own. Bucky was still shaking and his left arm had long since collapsed against the bed but Steve's strong arms wrapped him up.

"Buck, you –" Steve hesitated. "You're everything I want," he finally whispered and Bucky's heart skipped a beat. "I know it's early and… I don't expect you to –"

"You're everything I want, too," Bucky interrupted, bringing his weak arm to wrap around Steve's waist.

Steve reached out and Bucky turned his head to watch. He knew that Steve wanted to touch it and he was trying to conceal the discomfort but he was sure that Steve saw it anyway.

"May I?" He asked in a whisper and Bucky nodded, though he was biting his lip pretty hard.

It was difficult to let people touch that arm, not only because of the never-ending pain but also the memory attached to it. It was his left arm that he shot up in and, though the track marks were no longer visible to the naked eye, he could sometimes feel the bite of a needle pricking his skin. It was with his left hand that he helped Pietro shoot up; it was with his left hand that he'd taken his life; it was with his left hand that he'd left Wanda all alone.

How could someone want to hold something that had done so much damage?

Truthfully, it was the best and worst of his tattoos; the artwork was spectacular and the lines of the plates coincided with the scars in some places. However, like all of his tattoos, it did not completely conceal the scars, merely distort them.

So, to watch Steve lift the arm and bring it to his lips, kissing along the surgical scars on Bucky's forearm, tracing the lines with his fingers, and working his way up to the bicep – it felt like a strange dream. The minimal effort he exerted to hold it up for Steve to view had the muscles quivering uncontrollably.

Bucky swallowed and said, "When the bones were crushed, the muscles were really damaged too. You can use metal to hold bone in place but muscle requires more work and time." Steve was looking at him as he spoke. "I couldn't afford PT and I was going through withdrawals pretty bad, so I'm stuck with the tremors and weakness."

Steve turned his attention back to the tattoo design and Bucky wondered if he was counting the scars or simply feeling the imperfections in the skin. There were places that the metal pins were more obvious through the skin and some of the scars were less clean than others.

"Wanda – Pietro's sister –" When Bucky said that name, Steve's eyes shot up. "She designed this. She did all of my tattoos."

Steve traced the image of metal plates connecting, as if his arm was made of titanium outside, as well as in. "Why did she pick it?"

Bucky looked it over with a sardonic grin and said, "She said that it was my armor; that I couldn't shoot up through metal plates."

Steve smiled back, though he recognized that they were stepping into uncomfortable territory. He looked back down and ran his fingers over the inner part of the elbow, where the tattoo ended, and Bucky twitched.

"Did that hurt?" Steve asked, in a rush.

"No," he replied, smiling. "It tickles."

Steve's eyes narrowed, mischievously, and he whispered, "It's our secret," before leaning forward to press a light, fluttering kiss to the spot.

Bucky tried to focus on the sensation and not over-analyze the words.

* * *

Bucky walked into Stark for work, feeling a familiar tenderness below his belt that would remind him of Steve all night long. The idea of it sent sparks of arousal straight to his cock. All at once, however, his mind was wiped of such thoughts when he realized that Clint was standing at the host station, waiting for him.

He tried to push down the initial fear – Oh fuck, I'm fired – and approached Clint with a calm face. "Hey, Bucky," Clint said, smiling.

"Hey, Clint," he replied, still feeling nervous. "What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you, so I'm glad you're early," he said, stepping toward Bucky and patting his right shoulder.

"Oh?" Bucky said, hoping that Clint wasn't noticing the anxious tone he spoke with.

After a moment of staring at Bucky, Clint seemed to catch on that something was wrong. "Man," he said, smiling, "you're not fired."

"Oh, thank God," Bucky said, letting out a shaky breath. "So, uh, what's up?"

"Well, Scott, my roommate, found a place of his own so his girlfriend can move in, or something," he said, chuckling. Bucky smiled, happily, realizing that Hope would be leaving the program a success and her concerns about Scott were unfounded. "But that means that I'm down a roomie." Clint finished, looking pointedly at Bucky.

Blinking, he said, "Uh, um, wait," and tried to make his brain catch up. "Are you – are you asking me to move in with you?"

"Yes!" Clint said, grinning happily. "Scott's out at the end of next week and you could move in then."

Bucky's mouth was hanging open. "You barely even know me, though."

Clint considered that for a moment and said, "I'd rather it be you than some Craigslist nightmare. Here," he said, walking back to the podium and grabbing a cocktail napkin. "This is my number," he pulled a pen from his apron pocket. "Text me and let me know."

Bucky took the napkin but said, "I don't have a cell phone."

Clint laughed, "Oh man. Get a phone." Then he began heading back to the bar where Drax stood, drying a glass and smirking.

Bucky spent his shift wondering at his luck; since he had been accepted into the program, he'd gotten two jobs and built up a small savings, he'd just been offered a place to live, and he had a boyfriend.

Wait, he thought, is Steve my boyfriend? He tried not to focus on that question as he worked.

At eleven-thirty that night, he walked back to the shelter still feeling hints of the intimate touches from earlier, though not as intensely as when he'd arrived at work. He followed the same routine: showered, washed his hair, brushed his teeth, and then crept back to his room. He doubted that Steve would come calling again, since he would have to be careful about showing up after hours.

Bucky assumed there were cameras around though he had never seen any. He lay down on his bed, clad in black briefs, thinking about the following day. Sundays were his only full day off and it was sometimes difficult to find ways to keep himself busy.

But he did have a goal to work on the following day: getting a cell phone. He knew a few of the vets had month-to-month no-contract phones and figured that was all he really needed.

He rolled onto his side, facing the space that Steve had occupied the previous night. He licked his lips and ran his fingers over the sheet; it still smelled a bit like Steve and Bucky breathed deeply, lulling his body to sleep.

His eyes flew open after what felt like mere minutes of sleep. His arm ached from how tightly his muscles were clenched in his sleep and his left shoulder popped when he tried to stretch it out. He winced at the sharp pain but sat up to check the digital clock on the dresser – 4:12 – and he knew he wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon, so he began to stretch and loosen his muscles, taking his time with the left side especially.

As the tension eased, he felt the remnants of the nightmare dissolve, though certain bits remained. It was unusual for him to recall many images or sounds when he awoke, but Pietro's face – bloody and broken from the crash – was something Bucky could never forget.

Nor should he. He knew he would carry this guilt around his entire life. Sometimes, he imagined that people could see it, like a black mark. In his time in the Army, he'd taken lives in combat; he was a sniper with a substantial number of targets, but that had been war.

As he sat on the edge of the bed with his head resting in his hands, he heard a voice. No, man, it's not a good idea. The voice was slurred, the speech slow; it must have been a memory of Pietro, telling Bucky that they shouldn't go out.

Maybe those were some of Pietro's final words.

No, man, it's not a good idea.

Bucky dug his fingernails into his scalp, gritting his teeth against the rage and guilt. He remained where he was for some time, trying to forget, trying to push his thoughts down. The hate he felt for himself had eased in the last few months but he knew that it would never disappear completely.

Except when he was high.

When he'd woken from nightmares before, the remedy was easy – take a hit and roll for hours. He could take just enough to forget. He had enough cash on him to get some; he still knew people who supplied.

No, man, it's not a good idea.

Bucky remained there for some time, considering his options. He could call an old friend and spend all of the cash he had at his disposal to get high enough he might even forget Pietro. Then, he could get caught, kicked out of the program, lose his job, lose everything.

Again.

Or he could get dressed, go to the gym, and then use that money to buy a cell phone. He could call Clint, maybe get a place to live, and keep his promise. He could even get Steve's phone number. He could keep seeing Steve. Whatever it was between them was just beginning.

He could lose that completely or he could nurture it.

His leg was bouncing up and down, a fidget he maintained even after more than a year of sobriety. He could start back at day one, try again, do better next time.

No, man, it's not a good idea.

You're right, Pietro, he thought.

Then Bucky Barnes stood up and pulled on his gym clothes with shaking hands, determined to stay in the small gym until this craving dissipated.

* * *

Bucky had never had a phone contract in his own name. He'd been on a family plan with his sister for years but when he disappeared into a syringe, she'd cancelled his line. So, as he stood at T-Mobile, discussing his options with a sales person, he became more and more aware of how complicated being a part of society was.

She showed him the iPhones and the android models and he was trying to conceal his shock at the prices. He left the store with a new model android and a full plan, though he had little idea of what he would use it for. She told him that he could send photos, videos, and use his social media and it was at that moment that Bucky realized that he'd never had a smart phone before.

His last phone was a Blackberry; it had a terrible camera on it that he used to take grainy pictures of his friends when they were high. But this one took professional level photos – he could capture beautiful images as if he had been doing it for years.

He took some as he walked back to the shelter, mostly of New York City's architecture. Once he entered the lobby, by way of the side entrance, he remembered that he needed to text Clint. He found the napkin in his room and programmed the number in, sending a quick message to identify himself and his new number.

From: **Clint** 11:07 AM

You got a phone!

From: **Bucky** 11:08 AM

Yeah, just today.

From: **Bucky** 11:08 AM

So can I see the apartment?

From: **Clint** 11:08 AM

And I'm the first person you contact?

From: **Clint** 11:09 AM

Yeah, man! Come on over.

Clint sent Bucky the address and he made his way there; it was further from Stark and Benny's than the shelter was, but Bucky didn't mind walking further. The heat would be awful but he could handle it. He'd lived outside in the hottest months on record, so a longer walk to work and home would be easy. Plus, it would be fall soon.

He arrived at the building and found the directory – he buzzed apartment 417 and waited. A voice came over the intercom, "Yeah?"

It wasn't Clint, but Bucky answered, "I'm Bucky, I'm here –"

"Come on up," the voice said and the door buzzer sounded.

Bucky took the old elevator up to the fourth floor and knocked. It opened after barely a few seconds and Clint invited him in. "You want something to drink?" He offered.

The room he walked into was a small living room with a kitchen attached to his left; there was no space for a dining table and not enough counter space to create a breakfast bar. The room received a lot of sunlight through the large window that was opposite the kitchen. Across from the front door was a short hallway that led to the bedrooms and bathroom.

"No, I'm good, thanks," Bucky replied, waving his right hand as he looked around.

Then, Scott, the lanky server with a straight nose and black hair, walked into the room with a huge grin. "Hey Bucky," he said.

"Hey, Scott, you're moving out?"

Scott nodded, "Yeah, I'm actually moving in with my girlfriend."

Bucky's heart warmed and he thought, I guess you didn't need to worry at all, Hope.

"Yep," Clint jumped in, "he's leaving me in the lurch."

Scott chuckled and turned his attention back to Bucky. "Hey, you're in the shelter program, right? You know Hope?"

"Yeah," he nodded and was happy to learn that Hope had told Scott the truth, though she seemed to still feel uneasy about it the day before. "She told me about you when she found out where I work."

Clint said, "Scott, I'm gonna show Bucky your room."

"Cool," Scott replied, giving a double thumbs up, then pointed to the kitchen with both hands, "I'm gonna make some tea."

Bucky followed Clint into the hall; the first door on the right was the bathroom. It had a standing shower, a vanity with the sink, and a toilet, along with three cupboards that stood one on top of the other.

"There's a bathroom in my room, so this is all yours," Clint explained.

Then, Clint led them to the next room on the right, which was a decent sized bedroom with a window that faced the street, rather than the alley or a neighbor's window. Like the window in the living room, it let in a lot of light. Scott had his bed against the wall and had a standing dresser, a small desk, and a stereo. I'm gonna need to get a mattress at least. There was a small closet near the door that he could hang his work clothes up in until he could buy a dresser.

"What do you think?" Clint asked, smiling.

Bucky grinned back, "I think I'd love to take it. What amount of the rent and utilities will I need to cover?"

Clint invited Bucky to the living room and they ordered Chinese food for lunch. They talked about the costs and it all seemed really reasonable to Bucky; it would be easy for him to afford with both of his jobs, especially with his promotion.

When the food arrived, it was barely twelve-thirty; Clint and Scott invited Bucky to stay and watch the Yankees' game. Bucky hadn't spent time with anyone in a social setting – other than Steve – since the camping trip and he was more than happy to agree. He had a great time, even when it turned out that Bucky rooted for the Dodgers and Clint and Scott tossed fried rice at him.

When he returned to the shelter, it was after seven and Bucky was able to catch dinner at the soup kitchen before returning to his room to read until he fell asleep.

* * *

Monday morning was Bucky's other day off from Benny's and it was also his standing appointment with Maria. He awoke early and went straight to the gym; then he showered and walked to Benny's to buy breakfast. He took it to go and ate as he walked back to the shelter. When he entered the lobby, he immediately approached Darcy at the front desk.

"Hey Bucky," she said in the less-than-thrilled tone she always had this early in the morning. "I'll let Maria know you're here."

"Thank you," he said, smiling. Before he turned all the way around to find a seat, he had a thought and returned to Darcy's desk. "Is it possible to leave a, um, private note for someone?"

Her eyebrow cocked and her tired demeanor evaporated. "A private message?" He nodded, though he was beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. "I can leave a note in someone's mailbox."

"Okay," he replied, though he was unsure if that would keep the message from being read by someone else.

Seeming to read his concerns, Darcy added, "I can use an 'urgent' message so they grab it right away."

"But, if it's urgent, won't someone else read it?"

"Nope," she replied, "that note is reserved for a patient emergency and it's protected by HIPAA."

He listened to the explanation, though he was unsure what "hippa" was. "Okay, um, can I write the note?"

She nodded and placed a pink pad with URGENT written across the top in dark red letters. Bucky took a pen from the cup and swallowed around his dry throat. He wrote his number and signed it "B," hoping that Steve would know who it was from. He handed it back to her and she tore the note off, folding it up.

"I'll go put it in Steve's box," she said with a smile.

He froze, "Wait, how did –?"

"Duh," she said and walked down the hallway that led to the offices.

He took a seat in one of the lobby chairs and tried to take deep breaths, tried to slow the pounding in his chest. Questions raced through his mind. Was it smart for me to do that? Will Steve know it's from me? Will he get in trouble? Did I fuck up?

"Bucky," Maria's happy voice broke through his melancholy and he looked up at her. "Come on back."

He followed her to the office and took his usual seat; unable to broach the topic that was most on his mind, Bucky simply stared back at Maria. He became more and more convinced that she could read the truth on his face and, even if it wasn't, she was bound to discover it when he opened his mouth. So he kept his lips clamped together, as if that could fool Maria.

"Bucky," she began and the way she said his name made him pay attention, "something happened with Steve, didn't it?" It wasn't a question, though he knew he was expected to answer.

"Um," he started, then hesitated. "Under what circumstances are you required to report things?"

She cocked her eyebrow, clearly getting the picture of where Bucky would be taking this session, but she answered, "If you plan to commit a crime or if someone is hurting you."

"What about," he jumped in, "to the VA?"

"I have to report crimes against you or those that you intend to, or already have, committed."

"So," he swallowed, "if I were to be, um, seeing someone – an employee, for example…" he asked, his tone leading.

"So long as that employee is over seventeen years old and is not hurting you, I would not be mandated to report anything."

"Steve and I –" he began, but stopped short. He had no idea what to even say about them, let alone what he should say.

Maria sensed his doubt and offered him a hand, "Did he leave Sharon, like he said?"

He nodded, "He moved out last week."

"How do you feel about this sudden change in your relationship?"

He took a breath and tried to sort out his feelings, "I'm happy, but nervous; excited and a little afraid."

"Why afraid?" She asked, adjusting in her seat.

Bucky shrugged, "What if he changes his mind?"

She considered that for a moment, then asked, "Okay, what if he does?"

He tried to correct the emotions on his face before Maria could see how the thought destroyed him. But, again, she was no fool.

"Bucky, you're afraid that he'll leave you. Do you believe he will?"

Bucky could still hear the voice echoing in his mind – No, man, it's not a good idea. – and he thought of the fact that they'd done things without using any protection. They hadn't had sex, yet, but oral wasn't exactly safe.

Bucky was biting his lip hard and he winced when his sharp tooth pinched the skin. Bucky had been tested the previous March after he'd blown a guy in an alley – but he still felt like Steve could get sick from him.

He was a murderer and a whore. If Steve found out, would his first question be about Bucky's STD status? Or would he just look disgusted?

"You're back in that dark place, Bucky," Maria observed, pulling him from his thoughts. "When we discuss how Steve may or may not feel about you, it seems like you jump to a very intense insecurity. You were just thinking about the times you were paid for sex, right?" Her voice was not hostile or accusatory; she sounded concerned, if anything.

He cleared his throat, "Not… just that."

Maria met his eyes and said, "Pietro."

He swallowed and nodded, "Yeah."

She nodded too, then took a deep breath. "Bucky, when you're with Steve, these thoughts and insecurities come up, right?" He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay, what about otherwise? What about when you're having a good day at work? Do they come up then?"

He thought for a moment and shook his head, "Sometimes, not often."

"Okay," she adjusted herself again, "these thoughts are attached to Steve, or, at the very least, how you perceive yourself compared to him." He waited and didn't answer. "What do you think Steve thinks of you?"

Bucky pursed his lips, trying to answer the question.

God, Buck, you're everything.

Last night was everything I wanted it to be and more.

You were so good.

I'd like to be myself with you.

You're everything I want.

Mine.

"He…" Bucky began but hesitated, biting his lip. "He says… he says I'm everything. That the time we were together, it was everything he wanted. He says… he says I'm good."

Maria's face softened as she asked, "Do you believe him?"

"I think he does," Bucky replied.

"But you don't believe what he says about you?"

"I know he… thinks I'm worth something. I know he wants me. He said that he isn't just looking for a rebound." Bucky's voice was quiet and he hated the quiver in it but Steve made him feel vulnerable. Discussing this topic had a strong effect on him.

"Bucky, when you discuss Steve, you begin to think of things you've done wrong. Tell me some things that you've done right."

Bucky thought for a moment; this was more difficult than thinking of the drugs and the men. "I took care of my sister after my mom died. My dad had a really hard time, so I had to step up." She nodded her head and he continued, "I'm making friends. One even asked me to move in with him."

"That's great!" She said, smiling.

He smiled back and said, "I'm moving in at the end of the week."

"Okay, keep going," she said.

He thought for a moment, then said, "I've ignored my cravings and stayed sober. I didn't have sex with Steve while he was with Sharon."

"That," Maria interrupted, "is important. Tell me some things that Steve has done that show he can make mistakes too."

Bucky chewed on his lip before he said, "He kissed me when he had a girlfriend."

"Okay," she nodded for him to go on.

"He works here and, um, it's against the rules for us to…" Maria didn't nod at that and Bucky knew that it was an ethical dilemma for her. "We can avoid that topic if you'd prefer."

"No, Bucky," she said, shaking her head. "As my patient, your wellbeing is my priority."

"Okay," he said, still feeling unsure about moving forward. "He stayed with her after she cheated on him," he said after a moment of hesitation. "He stayed even though she was controlling."

"What do you think that says about him?"

Bucky rubbed his neck, thinking. "I think it says that he's kind of headstrong but also forgiving. He's prone to not think things through and acts impulsively."

"Was it foolish for him to forgive her?"

"Yeah, but it doesn't make him stupid or anything," he answered. "He's loyal, maybe to a fault."

She nodded, smiling, and said, "So, would he leave you if he knew about your past?"

Bucky sat up and argued, "Murder isn't the same as cheating."

"It wasn't murder, Bucky, and he already knows about the accident."

He blinked, "Yes, he does."

"So, based on what you know about him, what do you think he would do if he learned that you, like many others, turned to sex work to survive?"

"He'd…" Bucky began, "he'd say that it was…understandable."

"Bucky, the reality is that, even if you were a high dollar callboy and you did it because you love sucking dick, you should not feel ashamed of what you did. Even if you were still doing it, Steve should never judge you."

"I think he'd have issue if I was still doing it," he chuckled.

"Does he have some trust issues because of what happened?"

"No," he said, "Steve has a bit of a possessive side to him."

"I can tell by your face that you're comfortable with that."

"Yeah," he replied. "It's kind of like, um…"

"A kink?" She supplied.

He nodded, "Yeah."

She looked at him and asked, "Are you exploring this in a safe manner?"

"Yes," he said, "absolutely. He always checks in with me and we've discussed some of our limits."

"Okay," she said, seeming to relax a bit. "So, possessive, okay. What else?"

Bucky considered for a moment before asking, "Are you sure you want to discuss this?"

She sighed, "I'm not a prude, Bucky."

"Well, okay," he said, chuckling.

"It's an important part of your life right now," she added.

"Yeah, it is," he nodded his head. "Well, I like my male partners to, um, be in control in the bedroom. Some in everyday life is okay, but I'm not a sub and Steve isn't a Dom."

"Have you always felt this way?" He nodded and she went on, "So you've always preferred to be able to let others take the reins and steer you. But, in the last year, you had to be in total control at all times." He nodded again. "How does it feel to be able to hand some of that over?"

He sighed, "Like I've been under water with broken arms, fighting the current, but someone finally pulled me out."

"That's very descriptive, Bucky," she said. "You need a partner who helps you see defined limits."

He nodded his head, "Yes, I do."

"Do you think Steve can be that for you?"

Bucky grinned, "I can't wait to find out."

As he was leaving Maria's office, Bucky paused outside Steve's door. He listened for a moment and, when he heard no voices coming from within, he knocked. He heard what he assumed was Steve's poor seat creaking as he stood up, then footfalls as he approached the door.

"Buck?" Steve asked and his face lit up. He stepped aside so Bucky could enter.

"Hi," Bucky said, grinning like an idiot.

Steve chuckled, "Hi, dork."

Bucky laughed too. "Punk."

Bucky shut the door, though he waited for Steve's nod of approval first. He looked around the room – it was smaller than Maria's office and it only had one window, but Steve had made the space warm and inviting with brown-toned furniture and he used lamps instead of the overhead light.

They were still standing next to the door when Steve launched forward, pulling Bucky into a deep, frenzied kiss. Without meaning to, Bucky let out a soft moan that Steve swallowed down. Bucky pushed until Steve's knees hit the back of a chair and he collapsed onto it. Bucky did what he'd wanted to do all those weeks ago and straddled Steve's thighs, wrapping his arms around his neck. Steve's beard was growing out nicely and it felt amazing against Bucky's skin.

He sat back a bit, looking over Steve's face, searching for something – what, he wasn't sure. Maybe rejection or discomfort. He wanted to believe – desperately – that Steve was into him and this wasn't what he feared it could be: a rebound. But all he found in Steve's face was wonder, affection, and some questioning.

"What?" He asked, smiling.

Steve shook his head, "Nothing. I just… I can't believe that I can do this now." He ran his hands over Bucky's thighs, then up his sides, careful to avoid Bucky's left shoulder, and cupped his cheeks. He sat up and pulled Bucky into a kiss. "I didn't know I could want you this much."

Bucky bit his lip, stifling the enormous grin fighting its way onto his face. He allowed his own hands to wander over Steve's firm chest, his toned arms, and around his neck. "I gotta say, Stevie," he whispered, "I fuckin' love your hands on me."

"Fuck, baby boy," Steve whispered when Bucky ground his hips against Steve's. "You get me so hard."

"Oh yeah, Stevie?" Bucky whispered in a low, husky voice.

"Oh, my God, yes," he moaned, sitting up and grabbing Bucky's head, crashing their lips together.

The kiss quickly turned frantic and Bucky was rutting against Steve, letting out small moans that Steve swallowed. Steve grabbed Bucky's hips and took control of the rhythm, lifting himself as Bucky ground forward with amazing results. Bucky groaned, trying to keep quiet but losing his ability to reason.

Steve began to slow their kisses and moved his hands back to cup Bucky's cheeks. He pulled back and they stared at each other, catching their breath. "I have an appointment coming," Steve groaned. "We have to calm down, baby boy."

Bucky nodded but grinned as he whispered, "It's hard to calm down when you call me that."

Steve's eyebrow cocked. "I'll keep that in mind, Buck."

Bucky sighed, "That one's not much better."

Steve chuckled, "What should I call you to get you out of the mood? 'James'?"

"No," he laughed, standing up. "Honestly, it's your voice. I just… respond."

Steve didn't answer; he leaned back in the chair and watched Bucky walk around the room. On the walls, there were sketches, some beautiful charcoal drawings, and a few paintings in muted blues. One painting caught his eye, especially, and he walked over.

"Oh, that's just –" Steve said, standing up and walking toward Bucky, though he didn't finish the sentence.

It was him. Bucky knew it was him even though his face was hidden. The long, dark hair obscured his features but Bucky recognized the clothes and the park where they'd eaten together after the interview. Bucky was sitting in the grass with one leg bent and his left arm sitting on his knee. Though in the painting, his arm was exposed. Steve hadn't seen the scarring or the tattoo when Bucky had his shirt off very clearly because the lines and marks were less obvious.

Even though the face was turned away, it appeared as if he were lost in thought, but still wary. Steve had used mostly blues and greens but there was a splash of red for Bucky's shirt and it made the entire image more complex.

The watercolor effect made it appear as if Bucky were seeing himself through Steve's eyes. As he stared at it, he noticed details that suggested this was painted recently, though before they became intimate. There was a sense of longing in the way Steve's brush had shaped Bucky's form, as if he desperately wanted to reach out but couldn't. It was beautiful.

"This… is me." Bucky whispered, blinking back tears. He turned to find Steve watching him and asked, "Is it okay that it's here?"

Steve replied, "It was safer here than at home. Then, I just loved it so much, I kept it here."

"It's beautiful," he finally admitted. "I had no idea you painted."

Bucky could hear the smile in Steve's voice when he replied, "Since I was little. Not much else to do when you're laid up. I read a lot and learned to draw." Bucky wanted to ask more about his childhood but Steve continued. "I have to buy more stuff. Sharon threw away my supplies."

Bucky turned to him, shocked. "She did?"

"Yeah," he gestured to the painting. "This was what I was working on when we broke up and, afterward, she trashed my stuff. Luckily, I had brought it here before the camping trip."

Bucky turned back to the painting, suddenly seeing more than just longing in it; there was sadness, too, and grief. Bucky could feel how hard it had been for Steve in the months leading up to the end of his relationship. It was obvious in some of the sketches around the room – the pain and shame of being abused; the anger and the hate Steve felt toward Sharon, but also toward himself.

Bucky looked around at some of the sketches on the wall surrounding the painting. He saw a few of Natasha, including one that had been done with pastels, giving her a dreamlike quality. There were a couple of another woman – a blond woman, older, with a warm smile that mirrored Steve's.

"My mom," Steve said, gesturing to them.

Bucky smiled, "She's beautiful."

"Thank you," Steve said.

Bucky glanced at the clock on the wall and groaned, "I should go before your appointment gets here."

"You work tonight?" Steve asked and Bucky wondered if he was trying to prolong their encounter.

Bucky nodded, "Yep. Have you checked your messages, yet?"

Steve looked at him and shook his head. "No, why?"

Bucky smiled and began walking toward the door, "Oh, no reason."

* * *

Bucky got off work at eleven that night and checked his cell phone as he left the restaurant. There was a text message waiting for him.

From: **Unknown** 10:48 PM

You off yet?

From: **Bucky** 11:02 PM

Who's this?

From: **Unknown** 11:02 PM

How many guys you give your number to today?

From: **Bucky** 11:03 PM

I mean, it was a slow day

Bucky tucked his phone back into his pants pocket and started the walk home. He always kept his eyes sharp and focused on his surroundings, especially walking home this late at night. There were quite a few people around, including some beat cops, but he knew how dangerous these streets could be. When he was finally inside the shelter, making his way to his room, he took the phone back out.

From: **Unknown** 11:04

Better always be ;)

From: **Bucky** 11:23

Gonna shower

From: **Unknown** 11:23

Wish I could join you

Bucky added Steve to his contacts and grabbed some clean boxers, his toothbrush, and other accoutrement before he went into the bathroom. He kept the water cool for his shower, feeling his muscles ease from his day. He felt as though his session with Maria this morning had improved his feelings about Steve and their…whatever this was. He still had the insecurities and feelings of inadequacy that plagued his mind, but he felt that the recognition that Steve, too, was capable of mistakes had relieved some of it.

When he turned the water off, he dried himself off and pulled the boxers on. He knew that no one else was awake this late, so he brushed his teeth and walked to his room without putting his pajamas on. Once inside, he put his stuff away and grabbed the cell phone, opening the camera app. He bit his lip, nervous – what if Steve wouldn't want him to send pictures?

Screw it, he thought.

He lay down on the bed, using the front-facing lens to decide on a pose and angle, finally settling for a shot that showed his face and much of his abdomen. He bit his lip and heard the shutter sound, considering the image of himself. His hair was fanned out, damp, and he was staring straight at the camera; he noticed how the light seemed to make his eyes shine.

Sending the photo to Steve sent Bucky's heart racing, though he couldn't tell if it was from excitement or fear. He worried that Steve would be mad, or tell him not to send any more. His fear spiked when the phone vibrated – not with a message, but with a phone call.

He took a couple deep breaths before tapping the green button on the screen and putting the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Jesus, Buck, you're killin' me," Steve groaned, though he kept his voice quiet.

Bucky let out a relieved breath that almost felt like a laugh. "But, what a way to go," he replied, chuckling, and trying to keep his voice hushed as well.

He heard Steve's breathy laugh before he asked, "So, you're in bed?"

"Yeah, you?" He asked, though he felt kind of lame asking.

"Yeah, I am," Steve whispered back, though there was something in his voice – maybe flirtation. "I'm thinking about what I want to do to you."

Bucky's breath hitched and he suddenly had an intense desire to hear everything Steve wanted to say. "Tell me," he said, though his voice sounded more desperate than he intended.

"You want me to tell you what I'd do if you were here with me?"

"Yes," Bucky breathed.

"I'd kiss you, hard, until you were gasping for breath, then I'd push you onto the bed." Bucky could hear rustling on the other end of the line. "I'd want your hair down; would you do that for me, Buck?"

"Yes," he gasped, "anything."

"I'd lie between your thighs, grinding against you and I'd have both my hands in your hair. I'd move your head so I could kiss and bite along your gorgeous neck. Would you let me bite you hard?"

"Oh my God, Stevie," he groaned. Bucky's dick was so hard, he felt dizzy from how quickly it seemed the blood rushed there.

"You hard for me?" Steve's voice was deep and breathy as he asked.

"Yes, so hard for you," he said, beginning to palm himself through his boxers.

"Keep your hands off of it," Steve ordered. Bucky's hand immediately flew off of his erection and, instead, gripped his hair. "I asked you a question."

Bucky had to think for a long moment, trying to recall what he'd been asked. Then, he gasped, "Yes, please, Steve. Please bite me."

Steve's moan was the most vulgar sound Bucky had ever heard and he couldn't wait to hear it again. "I want you to get naked, if you aren't already," Steve ordered and Bucky obliged, quickly, hoping that Steve would tell him to begin touching himself. "I'm naked, too," he said and the hitch in his breath clued Bucky in that he was actively pleasuring himself.

"Please," Bucky begged, "please let me –"

"You wanna touch yourself, baby?"

"Yes," he all but whined back.

"I've got you," Steve replied. "I'm gonna let you touch yourself all you want to, but," he said, pausing, "you don't get to come."

The sound that Bucky let out was closer to a sob than anything. "Please, Stevie," he whispered, "please, I'll be good."

"Oh, baby, I know you will be," Steve replied. "Lick your palm and get it really wet," he instructed and Bucky did it. "Use that hand and start stroking yourself, fast."

He was already close – how was he so close and only just now touching himself? "Fuck," he moaned.

"Oh," Steve groaned, "now stop." Bucky whined, forcing his hand to cease moving. "It's okay, baby," he continued. "I've got you."

"I need you," Bucky moaned, gripping the base of his dick to keep from coming at the sound of Steve's continuing moans.

"What do you need?" Steve asked, breathing heavily as he neared his own orgasm.

"Fuck, Steve, I need you to…fuck me," he whispered, suddenly feeling nervous. They'd done other things but hadn't really discussed full intercourse yet. Bucky knew that Steve enjoyed the things that they had done so far and, when he was using his, frankly, filthy mouth, he'd mentioned the actual act.

But Steve had also considered himself straight – so, getting a blowjob and a handjob from a man, that was one thing, but actually fucking one? Bucky worried that Steve might not be comfortable with that idea.

That is, until Steve's voice shook as he whispered, "God, Bucky, yes. I want to be inside your tight little ass." Bucky gripped a bit harder, feeling like he could literally blow right then. "Wanna fuck you so hard, wanna feel your come on my chest as you ride my dick, wanna hear you moan my name over and over."

Bucky couldn't help it; his hand started moving on its own, "Oh, Steve."

"Hands off," he growled back.

"St-Steve, I can't, please," he whimpered – fucking whimpered.

"If you're a good boy," Steve whispered.

Oh my God, he thought, gripping himself to keep from going off.

"You want to be good for me?"

"I wanna, I wanna be so good for you."

"Oh, Bucky, show me how good."

Bucky forced his hand off and gripped his hair again; the other held the phone in place. "Okay."

"Oh baby, I can't wait to feel you, can't wait to – ah, fuck – fuck you so hard." Steve's every breath was a moan or a grunt as he neared his climax and Bucky was helpless, allowed only to listen. "I'm gonna come, Bucky, fuck, I wanna come inside you – oh," Steve's sentence was cut off by a sharp intake of breath, then a volley of groans.

Bucky's scalp burned from how hard he was gripping his hair. "Steve, fuck," he whispered, imagining the way the come streaked across Steve's gorgeous body.

"Hang on," Steve said after a moment and Bucky heard more rustling as, he assumed, Steve cleaned himself up. As he did so, Bucky's cock was throbbing and his entire body felt like it would burst if he moved a single muscle. His breath was coming in shuddering gasps by the time Steve returned. "I bet you're so hard."

"Yes," he gasped, "yes, please."

"Hmm…" Steve hummed. "Don't come. Don't touch yourself yet." Bucky's balls clenched and he worried he was ripping chunks of hair out of his head, he was holding on so tightly.

"Steve, please," he begged.

"If you're good and wait, I'll make it good for you."

Taking a deep breath, Bucky whispered, "What'll you do?"

Instead of answering, Steve asked, "What hours do you work this weekend?"

"I, uh, I work at Stark Friday and Saturday until around eleven. May asked if I could come in Saturday morning too."

"I want you to come over here Friday night," he replied. "Nat will be out with her boyfriend and I'll make sure you get to bed at a reasonable hour."

"What do you want to do?"

Steve's tone was downright salacious as he answered, "I'm gonna eat you out until you come all over yourself, then I'm going to open you up until you're begging, and I'm gonna fuck you."

"Fuck, Steve, please," he whimpered again, "please, let me come."

"Get your hand wet again," he ordered and Bucky hopped to it. "I want to listen as you touch yourself; imagine I'm touching you. You wanna come on me? Mark me up?"

"Yes," Bucky hissed, stroking himself fast.

"Get it all over me? Make me yours, like you're mine?"

"Yes, all yours," he gasped, listening to the filthy things Steve was saying.

"Yes," he hummed, "all mine."

No one else has made me this hot, he thought – or he believed it was a thought until Steve replied, "Me neither. Never thought… fuck, Bucky, come for me."

And he did.

* * *

Bucky expected the week to fly by as he worked sixteen to eighteen hour days, returned to the shelter, and passed out only to do it again. He got paid from both jobs and his paychecks were larger than before, especially after his raise kicked in at Stark. He was able to pay Clint a sizeable deposit and they planned for him to move in the following Sunday.

Bucky wasn't able to see Steve much, considering his schedule, but they texted often and even talked on the phone a few times.

Bucky hadn't told Steve about the apartment yet; he wanted to tell him when they got together on Friday night. In preparation for said evening, Bucky made a point of seeing the VA doctor and having a check-up, as well as an STD screening done. He knew he was clean but it helped him rest easier.

On Wednesday, Dr. Bruce Banner was sitting with him while they waited for the lab results to be delivered. There was a knock on the exam room door and the nurse who triaged Bucky stepped inside with a piece of paper. Dr. Banner took it, saying, "Thank you, Carol." He reviewed it, quietly, and then turned to Bucky. "Your results are clean, no STDs or other concerning results."

"Thank you," he said again, slipping off of the exam table.

"Bucky," Dr. Banner said, "I've seen you several times over the last few years but this is the first time that I've seen you looking so healthy. I'm happy to see it."

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, the last week of October will be eighteen months I've been clean."

"Congratulations," he replied with the biggest smile Bucky had ever seen on the man. He always seemed to maintain strict control over his emotions, never allowing himself to be too happy or too sad. Bucky had never heard him express anger of any kind, even when he had come into the clinic high off his ass.

"Okay, doc," he said, standing up, "is that all?"

Dr. Banner considered Bucky for a moment, staring through those thick-rimmed glasses with a curious expression. "Just one quick thing, Bucky. Your arm," he gestured. "I don't have records that you ever did physical therapy for that injury."

Bucky couldn't help the way his body tensed up at the mention of it but he answered, "No, I didn't do any."

Banner approached him again and asked, "May I take a look?" Bucky nodded, though he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. Banner's fingers were warm and dry as he pushed the short sleeve up and palpated the muscle. "I can feel some of the metal bars. Bet this arm hurts like a bitch in the cold."

Bucky nodded, trying to focus on taking deep breaths. "Yeah, but it mostly feels like a perpetual Charlie horse."

Banner's hands moved over his shoulder blade and the muscle over his upper chest. Even those touches hurt but Bucky didn't say a word. "Okay," Banner said as he pulled his hands away. "I'm going to give you a stabilizing shoulder strap. It's usually used for athletes coming off an injury but it will help the pain. Use this when you're working or exercising. It will help to ease those muscle cramps you're describing."

"Thanks, doc," Bucky replied. Dr. Banner called the nurse and asked her to get one.

When she returned, she helped Bucky put it on and showed him how to tighten and loosen it. The relief was almost immediate – the pressure and the way it forced his arm and shoulder to sit a certain way were amazing. He felt himself relax for the first time in longer than he could recall.

Work that night was good; he stayed busy but he couldn't help but notice that he felt lighter. It was the first time he'd lived without constant pain and it transformed his mood. He wasn't a broody person generally, but the relief had a positive impact on him.

Around seven, he informed Wade, the new host, that he was going on break. Bucky gave him the same pep-talk that Clint had given him. "You've got the rhythm down and you know the sections. Just keep your eyes open."

Wade had some facial scarring but kept it mostly hidden under his beard. He had an incredibly inappropriate sense of humor that Bucky loved already, though Pepper had spoken to him more than once about it.

Wade replied, "Okay, Kurt Cobain."

Bucky laughed at the comparison but didn't respond. He sat at the bar and ordered something called a zucchini flatbread. He'd worked himself through most of the appetizer options and had become more adventurous with his dinner meals.

Maya, the server, approached him to drop the food off. "You seem really happy tonight, Bucky," she said.

He smiled and replied, "I feel really happy."

She let her eyes linger on him before saying, "It's a good look on you." Without waiting for a reply, she strode off to check on her customers.

Bucky knew that Maya was flirting with him and he knew that she was single. He had caught her staring at him a few times since he'd started working at Stark. She was a beautiful woman and was always friendly but he hardly noticed her at all. He finished his food and his water before returning to his post for the remainder of his shift. Maya did not attempt to approach him again and he didn't dwell much on her attraction to him.

If he was being honest, he couldn't imagine being with anyone but Steve. He thought that knowledge would terrify him but it didn't.

The following morning, May said, "I know I asked you to work on Saturday but would you be able to work next Saturday instead? Peter's got a science Olympiad competition."

Bucky nodded, "I can work both if you need."

She shook her head and smiled, "No, that's okay."

The thought that he wouldn't have to be up at four in the morning after a night with Steve was enough to put a spring in his step. He made a point of texting Steve to let him know as well.

From: **Steve** 12:15PM

Can you stay over?

From: **Bucky** 12:16PM

If you'll have me.

From: **Steve** 12:16PM

I want you all the time.

From: **Bucky** 12:17

You get me Friday.

After that, the rest of the week went by faster and before he knew it, Friday had arrived. When he returned to the shelter at twelve-thirty, he packed a bag with some clothes, his toothbrush, shampoo, soap, and other toiletries. He knew that Steve had lube but he wondered if he should buy condoms. Figuring that it was better to be safe than sorry, Bucky stopped by a bodega and bought a pack of Trojans before he headed to the restaurant.

Bucky stored the bag in the back when he arrived at Stark. His afternoon and evening were busy; Friday nights always were, but he felt like he was out of his skin. He was so excited and nervous about seeing Steve, especially after the phone sex they had. He wondered, as he seated customers, if they would actually get that far.

By the time he was clocking out at eleven-thirty, he was covered in sweat and worried he was too tired to spend the night with Steve. However, when he exited the restaurant to find Steve there, standing next to a deep blue Harley, with a huge smile on his face, Bucky's heart began pounding.

Why does he always look so good? Bucky thought, trying to distract himself from how he must have smelled and looked after such a long day.

When they were standing about a foot apart, Steve said, "Hi."

Bucky grinned, "Hi, dork."

Ignoring that, Steve asked, "Ready to go?"

Bucky wondered if Steve's cheeks hurt from how hard he was smiling, but he didn't ask. "Yeah," he said and Steve held out a black helmet. When Steve took his bag so Bucky could pull it on, Bucky joked, "Such a gentleman."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Steve replied, grinning, and threw his thigh over the bike, starting it. He put his own helmet on and asked, "How was your night?"

Bucky rolled his shoulders and said, "It was okay. It went by fast. How was your day?"

"I didn't get a lot of work done," he chuckled, grinning at Bucky through his helmet visor. "I was thinking about tonight."

Bucky felt his body grow hot, even in the night air. "Me too," he replied, hearing the quiver in his voice.

Bucky stepped over the seat and pulled himself on, gripping Steve's waist to steady himself. He hesitated for only a moment before scooting all the way forward, pressing himself against Steve's back. Though he was wearing a helmet, Bucky felt Steve's breath hitch. It felt good, heady even, to know that he affected Steve in such a way.

When they arrived at the apartment building, Steve pulled into a parking space in the underground parking garage. Bucky slipped off first, slipping the helmet off of his head. When Steve was standing up as well, Bucky handed the helmet to him and Steve used his grip on it to pull Bucky over. He smiled as Steve kissed him, opening his mouth and feeling Steve's tongue against his own. He slid the fingers of his right hand into Steve's soft hair. Their hands were still clasped between them as the kiss turned heated and a bit sloppy. Bucky didn't care; kissing Steve was always perfect and he never wanted it to end.

Bucky pulled back and whispered, "We should head inside."

Steve nodded, though Bucky imagined that he could have said anything and Steve would agree at that moment. They separated and Steve stowed the helmets under the seat. As they were walking toward the entrance, Steve grabbed Bucky's bag from his shoulder and slipped it off of his arm carefully, then slung it over his own. Bucky chuckled and shook his head before leaning in to kiss Steve's cheek.

"What?" Steve asked, smiling.

"I can carry my own bag," Bucky replied, gesturing to it.

Steve looked down for a moment, then met Bucky's eyes. "I don't… I can't do these things for you normally. Because of my job. I want to do them all the time. I want to carry your stuff and hold your hand. I want to take care of you." He reached out and took Bucky's hand then, rubbing his thumb. "That's the kind of man I am."

Bucky felt a fire in his chest after this confession; the knowledge that Steve wanted him beyond their physical chemistry made emotion flood his body. He thought Screw it and moved closer, pressing his lips to Steve's, light at first but then harder. It was quick but passionate and, when they pulled back, they were both breathing a bit harder than before. The air around them was thick with heat and humidity but Bucky felt hot for an entirely different reason.

Steve glanced around them but he didn't look uncomfortable or anxious. It was the way a lot of men and women observed their surroundings when kissing a member of the same gender.

They entered the apartment building and Bucky remembered how disgusting he felt, covered in sweat and grease. He asked, "Would it be okay if I took a shower?" He felt himself blushing; though the question itself was fairly mundane, the implication of their evening changed the context.

Steve smiled and said, "Yeah, of course." Bucky could see a bit of red on the tips of Steve's ears as well.

They rode up the elevator and Bucky remembered the last time they'd been in one – remembered the last time they'd been here – and he shivered. He looked over and found Steve's eyes on him. The heat and intensity in his gaze made it clear that Bucky wasn't the only one thinking of those things.

They didn't blink or look away until they hit Natasha's floor. Steve took Bucky's hand – his left one – and led him down the hall and to the apartment door.

He unlocked it with precision and they stepped inside. Bucky's skin was tingling; he knew what they were going to do; he was nervous, even shaky, but he didn't hesitate. When the door closed behind them, Steve pressed Bucky against it with his body and attacked his neck with his lips, tongue, and teeth.

Bucky let his head fall back and groaned, but became aware of how clammy his skin felt beneath his work clothes. "St-Steve, I'm all sweaty," he gasped, trying to hold onto his sanity when all of his blood was rushing down.

Steve chuckled against Bucky's ear and he whispered, "Then let's go shower."

Bucky shivered at the feel of Steve's breath on his skin. He'd never really showered with someone before – after sex, sometimes, he'd showered alone, but that was it. He was sure his legs would collapse out from under him the moment he stepped away from the door, they felt so wobbly with desire.

He swallowed hard and nodded, "Okay."

Steve took his hand again, leading him through the apartment to the bathroom. The simple gesture made his heart leap in his chest every single time. Bucky stepped inside before Steve and looked around at the basic setup: toilet, sink, vanity, and shower. Steve set the bag on the counter and Bucky unzipped it to find the appropriate accoutrement while Steve started the water.

Bucky unbuttoned his black shirt and realized that this was the first time that Steve would see his arm in full light. His scarred body couldn't be that attractive, he was sure. He had a few wounds from combat, including a gunshot graze on his leg, but the rest were from more unsavory sources. Drug dealers wanting payment; johns looking for something other than a blowjob; and the accident. After so many things, how could someone like Steve even look at him?

Bucky's heart was pounding at this internal abuse and he knew he'd mostly lost his erection. Biting his lip, he glanced up to find that Steve was watching him with an expression that could only be described as predatory.

Fuck, he thought, surprised and awed, he really wants me.

Never breaking eye contact, Bucky took a deep breath and let the garment slip off of his shoulders, then loosened the strap to remove it, revealing the tattoos, surgical marks, and other scars on his chest and back. Once he was exposed, he dropped his gaze, unwilling to see the change in Steve's expression. He made sure to fold the shirt and pack it in the bag, followed by the strap, though this was simply an excuse to look anywhere but at Steve.

He knew that Steve had seen glimpses of his many flaws, even looked closely at them in the dark, but this was not like that. The harsh lighting streaming from above the sink left nothing to the imagination.

All Bucky could think was: I'm worthless. I'm a murderer. I could never deserve someone like him. He'll see that now.

After a moment, Bucky felt a warm hand on his back and Steve's lips followed, pressing light kisses into the marred skin of his shoulder. "You're beautiful," Steve whispered, his voice full of emotion.

Bucky released a breath in sheer relief. He never truly believed that Steve would tell him to leave or be repulsed by the marks, but he couldn't shake the anxiety that crawled up his spine. Maybe he would never be able to let another person see him without that fear.

Maybe he deserved that much.

He turned around and kissed Steve, opening his mouth to allow Steve's tongue inside. His ass was pressed against the vanity and Steve's body was trapping him there but he couldn't imagine a better place to be. Bucky grasped Steve's gray t-shirt and pulled it over his head, exposing that glorious chest and those abs that made his mouth water. Immediately, Bucky ran his fingers over the hot skin and his mouth followed, kissing and nipping across the expanse of gorgeous muscle. When he was paying special attention to Steve's nipples, Steve gasped and pressed a gentle hand to the back of Bucky's head.

"Fuck, baby, you're so good," Steve moaned.

When Bucky's fingers found the button of Steve's khaki shorts and began yanking on it, Steve followed his example. But before he pushed Bucky's pants down, Steve reached around and gripped his ass, pulling their bodies flush. Bucky groaned, kissing Steve and wrapping his arms around his neck. Bucky could feel Steve through their pants and ground their hips together.

Steve groaned into the kiss before pulling away to continue pushing Bucky's pants down. "Get naked," he ordered, a bit out of breath, "now."

Bucky's eyes widened for a moment, distracted by the authority in Steve's voice, before he got his pants, boxers, and socks off. Steve removed his own and pulled Bucky into the shower. The water was a bit cool but it was still almost eighty degrees outside and their bodies were incredibly hot against each other.

Steve's goddamn hands were everywhere, followed swiftly by his mouth. Bucky hurried to catch up and remembered what Steve had said about his hair. He reached up and unwound the tie, letting the strands fall around his face and Steve groaned at the sight. Both of his hands weaved into the tangles, shooting sparks across Bucky's nerve endings. Their lips smashed together and Bucky gripped Steve's shoulders, then around his neck, pressing their bodies together. He felt Steve's moan when their erections came into contact.

Bucky didn't know if he could last long enough for Steve to fuck him, but Steve seemed to have the same thought and steered them both under the spray of the shower. He released Bucky's hair to grab the body wash, pouring some on his hand before washing Bucky's chest, shoulders, and abdomen.

Bucky had rinsed the soap off when Steve asked, "Can I wash your hair?" His expression was hopeful, though a bit nervous about asking.

Bucky smiled and nodded his head, thinking, He's gonna ruin me for anyone else.

Steve's hands were a gift; they scrubbed and massaged thoroughly, spreading the lather through Bucky's locks. After a few moments, Bucky stepped under the water to rinse the shampoo out and took the body wash from its shelf. He washed Steve's chest, arms, and abdomen, then met Steve's eyes as his hands traveled further down. He bit his lip, hoping the look came across as seductive, and began lathering Steve's ridiculously beautiful dick. The sound Steve made was practically pornographic; his dark eyes fixed on Bucky, sending lightning through this body.

It's how he looked with the investor – like he wants to mark me, Bucky thought and he couldn't ignore the powerful desire for that to happen.

I wanna be yours.

Steve turned around and rinsed himself off, then began to shampoo his own hair. While Steve's eyes were averted, Bucky did a more thorough cleaning of himself; if they were going to have sex, he wanted to be ready. He ran some conditioner through his hair as well, then stepped under the spray. After that, Steve got out of the shower and began drying himself off.

Bucky turned the water off, suddenly nervous again, but wanting – no needing – to feel Steve everywhere he possible could. He moved the shower curtain and Steve took his hand. The simple gesture struck Bucky again – it was clear that Steve wanted the contact just as much as he did.

When Bucky was on dry linoleum, Steve immediately crowded into his space, kissing him deeply. During the shower, Bucky's erection had faded – unaided by his morose thoughts, but the way Steve's tongue and teeth attacked his mouth let him know that it wouldn't be gone long.

They only separated far enough for Steve to give Bucky a towel. "Don't get dressed," Steve whispered, opening the bathroom door, then he crouched down a bit and gripped Bucky's thighs, lifting him off the ground. Bucky moaned as Steve walked them both – naked – through the apartment.

Bucky loved when Steve picked him up like that; he felt weightless and wanted – feelings he couldn't say he'd experienced often in the last few years. Steve clearly enjoyed it as well, if the pressure against Bucky's ass was any indication. He leaned down and captured Steve's full, sexy lips in a bruising kiss.

Despite such distraction, they reached the bedroom quickly and Steve set him down, taking the towel. The only light was from the lamp next to the bed but Bucky could see clearly. Steve continued drying Bucky off some more and kissing his cheeks and neck, tickling him. It was sweet and tender, affectionate even and Bucky had to bite his lip against the emotion crawling up his throat.

I don't deserve your love, he thought to himself.

Bucky took the towel from Steve and wrung out his hair before tossing it away. When he turned his attention back to Steve, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, hard and waiting. Bucky was nervous; this was very new. Steve had never been with a man before; it could go badly if he rushed it. But it had the possibility of being wonderful too.

Bucky took a deep breath and walked over to stand before Steve, allowing the minimal light from the lamp to make him vulnerable, to expose his weaknesses. For his part, Steve's eyes didn't miss a thing; as they scanned over his body, Bucky felt as if they left fire in their wake. Just being seen, truly seen for the first time in so long, had his heart pounding and his dick reacting.

He leaned down and kissed Steve, a gentle press of the lips, and Steve pulled Bucky by the hips to straddle him.

"We only go as far as you're comfortable," Steve whispered, sliding his hands up Bucky's back.

Checking in with me, Bucky thought and embraced the warm feeling that rippled from his chest. Instead of answer, Bucky surged forward, kissing Steve's lips again, but this time, with as much fire and lust as he could put into it.

"I need to hear it," Steve whispered into Bucky's mouth, though he kept kissing back.

Bucky pulled back a fraction of an inch and met Steve's eyes. "I want you. I… I feel safe with you, Steve," he whispered.

That was all he needed to hear; in a flash, Bucky was on his back on the bed and Steve was hovering over him, resting his weight between Bucky's legs. He left hot open mouthed kisses along Bucky's neck and he attached to the fading mark on Bucky's collar bone, sucking a much darker bruise into the skin.

When Steve's lips found Bucky's earlobe, he whispered, "You'll always be safe with me."

The shivers that ran down Bucky's spine were not solely from the physical pleasure he was feeling. His chest felt full and he turned his head to capture Steve's mouth in a deep kiss. Steve's tongue teased his lips then thrust into his mouth as he rested his weight on his forearms, caging Bucky in with his body.

"Fuck, Stevie," Bucky groaned as Steve rocked against him, pushing their erections together. "Feels so good."

Bucky grabbed two handfuls of Steve's short hair and slotted their mouths together, moaning into the kiss. He hitched his legs around Steve's hips, trying to get more of the sensation. Instead of letting him, Steve pulled further away and began kissing down Bucky's body. He whined and tried to pull Steve back up but Steve grabbed Bucky's wrists and pressed them into the mattress above his head.

"Don't move," he whispered, his voice rough and heavy with desire.

All Bucky could do was nod and watch, lips parted, as Steve moved down his body. He sucked dark purple bruises and left harsh, red bite marks on Bucky's skin, never once breaking eye contact.

His smile was wicked and Bucky was sure that he could count on one hand the number of people who knew that beneath Captain America's goody-goody exterior lived someone so absolutely obscene.

It was thrilling that he got to see it, that it was for him and the marks left in Steve's wake left no question as to whom Bucky belonged.

Steve came to rest between Bucky's legs, his mouth hovering over Bucky's dick when he said, "We're going to use the color system. Okay, baby?"

"Yes," Bucky nodded, biting his lip.

Steve's irises were so dilated, Bucky couldn't see more than a thin sliver of blue. "If you want me to slow down or stop, what do you say?"

Bucky licked his lips and said, "R-red to stop and yellow to s-slow down."

Steve smiled, "And when you want me to keep going?"

"Green, Stevie," Bucky said, biting his lip in anticipation.

"That's right, baby," Steve said, smiling. "What's your color now?"

"I'm so fucking green," Bucky said, quickly, and then moaned, fisting the blankets as Steve's tongue licked the length of his erection.

Steve's right hand gripped the base to hold it up and his tongue circled the tip before sucking it into his mouth. Bucky kept his eyes open, watching as those fucking lips took more and more of him inside that wet heat. Because he couldn't take it too deep, Steve stroked as he bobbed his head up and down.

"Steve, oh fuck," he groaned.

Moving away, Steve let Bucky's cock slip from his lips and he reached across the bed into his bedside drawer. His hand came back with a bottle of lube and Bucky bit his lip again. Steve noticed him and smiled, rubbing the outside of his thigh, affectionately.

"Color, baby," he said.

"Green."

The heat in Steve's eyes seemed to touch Bucky everywhere, lighting his skin on fire. He leaned back over and rummaged in the drawer once more before pulling out a long strip of condoms.

Bucky chuckled, "You need all those?"

Steve smirked at him, "Can't have you just one time, Buck."

Bucky tried to hide his grin, though he didn't hide the eye roll, as he replied, "Smooth." Inside, however, his heart swelled; Steve wanted him, wanted to have him again.

Steve moved up Bucky's body, holding his eye contact with a much darker look on his face. "What should I do to you?" He asked, suddenly, and it was obvious Bucky wasn't expected to answer him. "What would make it hard for you to stay still?"

Bucky didn't have a chance to even consider a response as Steve leaned back on his haunches and grabbed Bucky's shins, pushing them up and bending Bucky's knees against his chest. "Fuck, Steve," he gasped, then moaned when he realized what Steve was going to do.

Steve leaned forward, biting along the inside of Bucky's thigh, then he ran his nose along his balls before moving his hands to Bucky's cheeks. "Hold your legs, baby," Steve said and Bucky complied, gripping his knees. "That's it, baby," he whispered.

Steve spread Bucky wide and teased his perineum with his tongue, then licked along the tightly furled muscle. Bucky gasped, "Oh my God, Steve."

"Look at you," he said, smiling up at Bucky, "being such a good boy for me."

Steve didn't let up; his teasing licks became long, hard drags of his tongue followed by light grazes of his teeth. Bucky was sure he was saying things – begging, maybe – but he had no idea what they might be. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his breath came in short pants; he lifted his legs higher, exposing more of himself to Steve's touch.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," he groaned.

He'd let himself be carried away by the sensations, entirely unable to form coherent thoughts, especially when Steve hummed deep sounds of satisfaction. He thrust the tip of his tongue inside over and over, fucking Bucky with it. Steve circled the rim and Bucky felt the saliva sliding down his skin.

"Ah ah! Steve," he gasped, "please, don't stop."

"Mmmm," Steve replied and the vibrations against Bucky's rim. "You taste so fuckin' good, Buck," he groaned, kissing Bucky's inner thighs before diving right back in.

Bucky had experienced this before, but it was nothing like Steve. His mouth was hot and wet and better than anything Bucky could have dreamed of. "Want you," Bucky croaked out; his cock was so hard, it had turned a shade of dark red and was already leaking onto his stomach. "Please, please, Steve, want you."

"Want me what?" Steve asked, giving Bucky's ass a few kitten licks before thrusting his tongue back inside, working in a finger alongside it.

"Oh God, yes, that," Bucky cried out.

Steve pulled his finger back and pressed his tongue deeper, hooking it inside the rim and tugging. Bucky nearly keened, feeling his left arm shaking with the effort to hold his leg up. Steve noticed it too and slipped his hand over Bucky's to take some of the strain off.

Bucky swore he could feel his eyes pricking – not just from the intense pleasure but also from the being taken care of like that. Steve was gentle and kind, but so sensual; he gave and gave.

Bucky threw his head back, letting the tears slip from beneath his lids as his abdomen clenched. His dick was leaking a steady stream of moisture as fire began at the base of his spine, followed by the telltale coiling.

"Steve, fuck," he grit out, "stop, 'm gonna come."

Steve let his tongue slip from inside Bucky and he crawled back up his body, helping Bucky release his legs as he went. "Let 'em go," he whispered, "that's it." Without question, Steve wiped the tears away with his thumbs as he pressed kisses all over Bucky's face.

"Steve, please," he whispered, completely unsure of what he was saying or asking for, but Steve knew.

"I'll give you everything you need, baby," he said, grabbing the lube. He lifted Bucky's right leg and rested the calf on his shoulder, while Bucky wrapped the other one around Steve's waist. "We're going to take this slow," he said, pouring some lube on his fingers. "I'm going to take such good care of you. Remember your colors."

Bucky nodded, "So green, Stevie."

"You're so good for me, baby," Steve whispered, pressing a kiss to Bucky's ankle and circling one lubed finger around the fluttering muscle. "Can't wait to watch you take my cock."

Bucky's dick twitched and he groaned, "Stevie, shit."

"You want it, baby?" At Bucky's desperate nod, Steve said, "Say it."

Bucky licked his lips, eyes wide, "I want you to fuck me."

Steve groaned, a low, dark sound coming from his chest, "Say it again."

"Fuck me, Steve."

Steve's finger pressed past the furled muscle and they both groaned at once. He didn't move it beyond the first knuckle, though, and waited patiently for Bucky to relax a bit more. For his part, Bucky was gripping the pillow behind his head, focusing on his breathing. He knew Steve was good at this part – knew that he would open him up slowly and gently, but Bucky also knew he could take it harder. After a few moments, he pressed himself down onto Steve's finger, trying to take it deeper.

"You ready for more?" Steve asked and Bucky nodded, then gasped as Steve pressed his entire finger inside. "You feel so good, baby," he whispered, "Wish you could see this."

"More," Bucky groaned, "please, Stevie, more."

"You want another, baby?"

"I'm ready, Steve," Bucky moaned. "I want it so bad, please, give me everything," and he knew that the words could mean more than he intended but he couldn't care less.

Steve didn't hesitate; he pulled his finger out and Bucky felt the pressure of two fingers pressing into the tight muscle. Steve took it slow, centimeter by centimeter, until Bucky's muscles clenched.

"Yellow."

Steve stopped immediately, watching Bucky's face intently, but with patience and affection. "What do you need, baby?"

"Just –" Bucky whispered, taking deep breaths and focusing on Steve. "Just give me a minute."

"You're doing so good for me, baby," he said, kissing Bucky's ankle again.

Bucky let the praise wash over him, relaxing him. He swallowed and nodded his head, "Okay, okay it's getting better."

"I won't move until you tell me to."

I love you.

After another deep breath, Bucky said, "Green."

Steve began moving his fingers, crooking them inside of him until Bucky saw stars. His head snapped up and he tightened his leg around Steve's waist. Steve continued moving his fingers in and out of Bucky, repeatedly pressing against his prostate.

"Fuck, fuck, Steve," he groaned. "More, please more."

"You ready for three, baby?"

Bucky nodded, "Ready for your cock."

"I gotta give you three first, baby," he whispered. "Gotta get you ready for me."

"Goddamn, Stevie, your fingers are fucking huge," Bucky groaned, but before Steve could slow down or stop, he said, "I'm green, so green, don't you dare stop."

Steve groaned, a desperate, wrecked sound, "Fuck, Bucky, you're killin' me here."

He slipped his fingers free before pouring more lube on them, and pressing all three inside. He worked them in slower than before, until his knuckles pressed against Bucky's body. He crooked his fingers again, rubbing the bundle of nerves repeatedly.

Bucky arched his back moaning wantonly, and gasped, "I'm ready, Stevie." Steve's fingers brushed his prostate and Bucky began pressing down on them again. "I'm ready, ready for your big cock, please," he begged,

"Fuck," Steve cursed, spreading his fingers as wide as he could. "Just a little more, baby."

Steve reached over and grabbed the strip of condoms but Bucky yanked them from his hand and ripped one free. He needed to do this; he couldn't explain why. "Let me – oh God – let me put it on you."

Steve nodded, smiling down at Bucky. He finally slipped his fingers free and found the towel Bucky had tossed; he used it to wipe his fingers off, then scooted closer. They both watched, entranced, as Bucky sat up slightly, tore the condom packet open, and rolled it on.

"Here," Steve lifted him up and slipped a pillow beneath his lower back.

Bucky could feel the words crawling up his throat – I love you. Don't leave me. I'll do anything for you. He clamped his mouth shut, trying to hold them in.

"Look at me, baby," he whispered and Bucky met his eyes. "I want to see your face the whole time, okay?" Steve gripped Bucky's thigh against his abdomen as he leaned forward to kiss Bucky's lips. He grabbed the bottle of lube and poured a generous amount on his hand to slick himself up.

"Steve," he gasped, unable to keep it from slipping out.

Steve stopped moving and looked at Bucky, searching his face. "What, baby?"

"Want you to fuck me," he whispered. "Want your cock in me so bad."

Steve growled, grabbing Bucky's dick and stroking it, spreading the moisture from his hand all over it. Bucky moaned, watching as Steve lined himself up and pressed forward.

There was a blunt pressure as the head of Steve's gorgeous cock pushed against the muscle. Bucky bit his lip so as to not hiss at the slight burn. Steve was larger than Bucky thought he was, even though he'd been up close with his dick quite often, but there was little resistance. Bucky felt the sweat on his brow and focused on his breathing.

"Oh, holy shit, Bucky," Steve groaned. "You're so hot and tight, made just for my cock, I swear."

He had stopped moving once the head was inside and watched Bucky's face closely. Bucky was panting short, quick breaths, gripping the blanket. He needed to feel Steve, to touch him, to make this feel real. He needed to ground himself. He wanted, so much, for it to never end and he felt the heady emotions in his chest.

"Can I – oh fuck – can I touch you?" He begged.

Steve nodded, smiling, "Yes, baby, you can touch me." Bucky's hands gripped Steve's thighs, which were on either side of his hips. "Talk to me, baby," Steve said. "I'm going to go slow but I need you tell me if it hurts."

Bucky nodded, still breathing rapidly, "Okay."

The burn was fading and he knew he could take more, though he worried he would need to stop Steve before he got all the way inside. It had been a while for Bucky anyway, but Steve was so big and it wasn't just some sleazy lay in a car – it was Steve. The man he loved so much, it overwhelmed him.

Steve pushed in a bit more, going inch by inch, and watching Bucky's face. He stopped, though, and leaned over, bringing his left hand to Bucky's cheek. When he lifted it away, Bucky saw moisture there and realized he was crying.

"Am I hurting you?" Steve asked in a rush, concerned.

"No," he replied and shook his head. "I'm so green, Stevie, please, keep going."

Steve licked his lips and pressed in more. Bucky knew that this was about trust and communication, but there was so much more. Steve needed to trust that Bucky would tell him the truth, and vice versa.

After a few moments, Bucky felt Steve's pelvis come to rest against his ass and he sighed. He couldn't explain the emotions rolling through him but, all of a sudden, he was smiling a huge, happy grin. He felt lightheaded, totally fucked-out, and blissful.

"How are you, Buck?" Steve asked, examining Bucky's face again.

The smile that he was met with seemed to relax him a bit. He smiled back and Bucky said, "So fucking green, Stevie. You've got such a huge dick."

Steve chuckled and leaned down to kiss him. "Tell me when you're ready, baby."

He was still panting, though his breathing had evened out some, it was starting to feel better – better than better, it felt good. There was still the burning sensation but Bucky had never had a partner take so much time to prepare him with such care. The partners he'd had over the last year, those that came before – they had considered it a perfunctory duty to apply lube, but they didn't care if Bucky enjoyed it.

He felt more tears in his eyes but tried to blink them away; his smile didn't fade one bit, though. Steve was staring down at him with so much affection and something else – awe, maybe.

"I think I –" Steve began, then hesitated. Bucky smiled up at him, feeling light and airy. "Fuck, you're so beautiful like this, Buck." He whispered.

Bucky ran his left hand up Steve's arm, along his bicep, and rested it on the back of Steve's neck. Steve hadn't moved and the strain was evident on his face; sweat was beading on his forehead and his jaw was flexing.

"Steve," Bucky whispered and lifted his hips a bit. "Oh God," he gasped, feeling Steve's dick press against his prostate. He pulled Steve into a deep, tender kiss using his grip on Steve's neck, but when the angle changed, he whined. "Steve, please," he begged, trying to change the angle back.

Steve caught on and grinned, "Oh yeah?" He sat back on his knees and the shift pressed his dick into that sensitive nerve bundle.

Bucky was sure he was going to lose it. He moaned and dug his fingernails into Steve's thighs, while trying to pull Steve closer with his leg. "Please," he gasped, "please, Stevie, move."

Steve leaned back further and Bucky nearly jackknifed off the bed. "What do you say?"

"Fuck, fuck, Steve, come on, please," he whispered, his head thrown back.

Steve pressed harder against Bucky's prostate but didn't move an inch beyond that. "You know what I'm waiting for."

"Fuck, green, green, green, move, oh God, so green," he chanted until it broke off in a moan.

"Yes, baby," Steve breathed, pulled out inch by inch, slow and deliberate, then pushed back in.

Steve was groaning out desperate sounds, followed by filthy words. He kept his pace slow and Bucky knew it was meant to allow him to get used to Steve's size, but he was feeling a little impatient.

"More," he gasped, tightening his leg around Steve's waist, "please, need it."

"I'll give you everything you need, baby," Steve said, pulling almost all the way out and slamming back inside.

White exploded behind Bucky's eyes and he cried out. He turned his face into a pillow to cover the sounds bursting out of him. Steve's hands grabbed his hips, his pace quickened, and the sounds of their moans, the creaking bed, and smacking flesh filled the room.

Steve pulled almost all the way out and drizzled more lube onto his cock, making sure to rub it around and Bucky felt him rub it on his stretched rim. Steve grabbed Bucky's hips with both hands, picking up speed.

Bucky was breathing heavily, arching his back, and leaving red streaks on Steve's thighs as his nails dug in. He did his best to press into Steve's thrusts but his range was limited. Each press against his prostate was a powerful shock to his system and he felt the need to pull away from it, but also to take it harder and faster. His dick bounced against his abdomen with every snap of Steve's hips and, even with such minimal stimulation, that fire had reignited at the base of Bucky's spine.

"Oh, oh! Steve!" He gasped, "I'm so close, so, so close!"

"You wanna come, baby?" Steve asked in a deep, raspy voice.

"Yes, please, Steve," Bucky begged.

"You wanna come so hard on my dick, squeeze me tight?"

"Oh, God," he groaned, sure he could come simply as a result of Steve's filthy mouth, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not until Steve said.

"You've been such a good boy," he said. "Doing as I say, taking my cock so good." Bucky nodded, having lost the ability to form coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. "Oh, baby, look at you," Steve said, dipping his fingertip in the pool of pre-come on Bucky's belly before bringing it to his lips and licking it off.

Bucky had never seen a sexier, more obscene image in his life and his balls tightened, agonizingly close to release. He had no idea how he had held on for so long.

"You just can't help it, can you? So wet, leaking all over yourself." Steve's breaths were coming in harsher and Bucky recognized the signs that he, too, was getting close. "You're all mine," he growled and snapped his hips harder.

"Yours," Bucky gasped, though he was completely unsure where the wherewithal to form speech was coming from.

"Oh fuck, baby," Steve groaned. "You've been so good for me. Love the way you take it, fuckin' made for my cock."

"Yes, all for you," Bucky's eyes were rolling in the back of his head. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You gonna come, baby?"

"Yes, God, yes," Bucky gasped out.

"Ask me," Steve ordered.

Bucky arched his back and dug his fingers into Steve's skin. "P-please, can I? Please, let me come, please, oh, God."

"Steve is fine," he replied, sassy even when he was about to blow.

"S-Steve, please," Bucky begged. "I need it, need to come with you in me."

Steve moaned, a loud, desperate sound that sent electricity straight to Bucky's cock. "Fuck, Bucky, I wanna feel you come on my dick. Come for me, come now."

Following orders never felt so good. Bucky cried out as his body contracted and he saw stars. He was sure he broke the skin of Steve's thighs as he came all over his chest and belly. He lost all awareness of incidental things, like his name or where he was; the only thing he was sure of was Steve.

"Oh, fuck, you feel good," he heard Steve groan. He had slowed down a bit, still fucking Bucky through his orgasm but at an easier pace.

When Bucky's aftershocks eased a bit, his left hand collapsed to the bed, shaking from the exertion. He was completely fuck drunk, only vaguely aware of Steve beginning to move again, leaning forward over Bucky and snapping his hips hard and fast.

"Fuck, Bucky, you feel so good. I'm gonna come in you, fuck, wanna fill you up," he rambled into Bucky's ear, kissing his cheeks, lips, and forehead over and over.

"Come in me," Bucky said in a quiet voice with a satisfied grin on his face.

"I'm gonna come so hard, so deep in you, mark you up as mine," the last word ended in a loud moan as he slammed home one final time, so hard that he pushed Bucky's body up the bed.

At that moment, Steve bit down on Bucky's shoulder, hard enough that he yelped from shock. Bucky could feel Steve's dick pulsing inside him, filling the condom. Steve nearly collapsed all of his weight on Bucky but caught himself on his left forearm.

Bucky reached up and wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and continued to grind himself against Steve's hips as they stuttered from his orgasm.

After a few moments, Steve's teeth released him, then his lips met Bucky's in a sweaty, passionate kiss. Holding the base of the condom, Steve slipped out and Bucky whined at the loss, but Steve kissed his forehead again.

"Be right back," he whispered, standing up and disposing of it in the small trash by the door. True to his word, Steve returned to the bed and grabbed the towel again, using it to gently wipe Bucky's chest and abdomen off. When he was done, he wiped himself down and pulled Bucky into his arms.

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky's hair, gently massaging his scalp and neck, while his other hand rubbed Bucky's back. Because of the gentle touches, not to mention the mind blowing orgasm, Bucky's eyelids were drooping and his breathing had evened out. He was floating, unaware of anything beyond Steve and love and feels good.

"Hey," Steve said, touching Bucky's cheek, "let's get cleaned up some more and get some water, okay?"

"Mmm," Bucky replied, shaking his head, "tired."

Steve smiled and said, "I'll take care of you, baby."

Bucky tried to stay focused on Steve's voice and the way his fingers were tracing along Bucky's spine, but everything in his head had quieted. The voice that always reminded him that he didn't deserve this or Steve had silenced and was replaced by blissful, fuzzy contentment.

"I'll always take care of you," he heard Steve say, though he sounded far away.

Bucky nodded and smiled, whispering to Steve, "Thank you, 'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one," Steve replied and kissed Bucky's forehead.

"So good to me all the time," Bucky rambled, unaware. "I don't deserve it."

Steve didn't respond immediately but Bucky wasn't conscious of that. He felt warm and safe, even loved for the first time in so long.

And he loved Steve.

"I'd do anything for you, Bucky," Steve finally said.


	3. War, Children, it's Just a Shot Away

Bucky woke up after what felt like twenty-four hours of blissful sleep. He stretched his left arm and shoulder, groaning quietly when the joint popped. He slowly came to awareness, recognizing that he was most definitely not in his tiny bed at the shelter. Then, he realized that there was a warm body pressed against his back.

Steve.

He could hardly contain the warmth that spread through his chest at the realization that they'd cuddled all night. He smiled as he leaned over to locate a clock, which told him it was just after nine in the morning. He sighed and lay back down, then a strong arm wrapped around his waist in a tight grip, and pulled his back against a hard chest.

"Mmm…" Steve murmured, "good morning."

"Morning," Bucky replied, wearing a huge grin. He couldn't remember much after they'd had incredible sex and he asked, "Did we shower again?"

He felt Steve nod against the back of his neck. "Yeah and we ate some leftovers."

"Huh," Bucky said. He had heard of subspace and the effect it had on a submissive's mind, but he never thought he would experience it. He was alarmed at how vulnerable he had been during that time, but also knew that he had been completely safe with Steve.

As he thought this over, he felt something else pressing against his backside and felt Steve grip him a bit harder.

"Are you sore?" He asked, his voice raspy but concerned.

Bucky moved his hips around, gauging the level of tenderness he felt. "A bit but I'm up for more," he replied, pressing his ass against Steve's dick.

Steve growled and ordered, "Hands and knees."

If Bucky hadn't been hard before, he was now. He moved faster than he knew he could, assuming the position Steve ordered. He struggled for a moment to find a comfortable way to rest his left arm until he felt Steve's hand in the center of his back. He pressed Bucky down to put his weight on his chest, then gave him a small pillow.

"Put this under your shoulder," he said in a softer voice.

Bucky hugged it to him, reveling in the way it took the pressure off and eased the pain. Steve used his knees to spread Bucky's legs a bit wider, while he covered Bucky's back with his body, kissing along his shoulders and moving Bucky's hair to kiss his neck.

Bucky's right hand gripped the blanket, anxiety and anticipation flooding his system at the knowledge of what was about the happen. He felt Steve move off of him and Bucky pressed his knees harder into the mattress, looking back at Steve over his left shoulder.

He'd grabbed the lube from somewhere and poured it over his fingers. Bucky bit his lip when Steve spread him wide and rubbed the pad of his moist thumb over Bucky's tender tender skin, gently easing it inside.

Bucky gasped - there was a burn that wasn't there the night before. Steve stopped immediately but didn't pull away.

"Yellow?" Steve asked.

Bucky smiled and shook his head, "Green."

Steve removed his thumb and replaced it with his index finger. He took more time to prepare Bucky than he had the night before but Bucky was grateful to have it. It was easier and Steve had learned Bucky's body. In no time at all, he was squirming and moaning at the press of Steve's fingers on his prostate.

"Oh, God, Stevie," he groaned, pressing backward. "Fuck, come on, please."

"Please what?" Steve asked.

"Please, please, Stevie, I'm so green."

"Please what?" He repeated.

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, please," Bucky whined.

Steve removed his fingers and Bucky heard him tear a condom packet open. After some rustling, Steve pressed the head of his cock against Bucky but immediately pulled it away. Bucky tried to press back to find it again but Steve held him still.

"Steve, please, what do you want me to say?"

Steve was quiet and Bucky felt like he could cry from desperation. He was so hard and Steve just kept running his fingertips over Bucky's crease, teasing him.

"Steve," Bucky whined, "please, I need it again."

"What do you need?" Steve asked.

Bucky was gripping the sheet with his right hand and holding the pillow to his chest with his left. "Need you...need to feel good again."

"Who makes you feel good?" Steve asked, pressing the head of his dick into Bucky, though without much strength.

"Only you, fuck, please, Steve, no one else, ever, never again," he rambled and then cried out when he felt the blunt head of Steve's cock against him. He fought the urge to tense up and gasped at the pressure, gripping the sheet harder.

Finally, finally, Steve pressed until the muscles gave and they both groaned. "Oh, fuck, Bucky, so hot and tight around me," he groaned but held still.

"S-Steve," he gasped. "Fuck, don't stop."

Steve moaned and pulled out a bit before pressing further inside, then again and again until Bucky felt Steve's hips meet his ass.

"Wish you could see this, fuck, you take it so good," Steve said, running his hands over Bucky's back and hips. "Made just for my cock, weren't you?"

Bucky wasn't sure if Steve expected him to answer but he couldn't help it. "Yes, only you," he whispered.

Steve growled at that and snapped his hips, slamming into Bucky harder than the other slow, steady thrusts.

Steve was relentless, pounding into Bucky hard and fast, gripping his hip with one hand while the other rubbed and massaged along Bucky's back. "No one can see you this way, make you feel this good," he growled. "Say it."

"No one else," Bucky cried out, feeling his body coiling, ready to blow. "Fuck, no one has ever made me feel like this. No one ever could –" he was cut off by a cry when Steve groaned and snapped his hips harder.

"You're mine," he said through heaving breaths.

"Yours, yes, God, Steve, don't stop," he begged.

He knew his lower back was going to be sore after this, not to mention his ass, and he had a full day of work to look forward to. But, "Oh, please, don't stop, please," he kept begging.

He finally turned his face into the pillow to cover his cries and Steve snapped his hips, using the hand on Bucky's back to press him down into a new – and amazing – angle. Bucky was saying things but he had no idea what they were; he reached his right hand up and gripped his own hair, pulling and reveling in the intense feelings that wracked his entire body.

"Fuck," Steve groaned. "You want me to pull your hair?" Bucky nodded, desperate and spiraling.

"Please, Stevie," he begged through the pillow. "Please, let me come."

Steve's hips ground deeper inside him and Bucky felt tears streaming from his eyes. He was going to come so hard, he thought he might need to call off work. When Steve's fingers finally entwined in his hair and pulled, Bucky screamed into the pillow. Steve used his grip to pull Bucky's face away from it and the sounds he had been trying to cover exploded out of him. His body was clenching but Steve hadn't said he could come yet.

"Please, Steve," he gasped. "I need it, I need it."

"What do you need, baby?" Steve's breath ghosted over his left ear and he shivered.

"I – I need…" he bit his lip.

"Say it," Steve ordered.

"H-hold me down," he whispered. "Hold me down and fuck me. I need it."

Steve did not disappoint; he released Bucky's hair and slowed his pace to readjust their bodies. He helped Bucky lay on his stomach with a pillow beneath his hips and Steve straddled his thighs. He pushed back inside, slow and easy, but Bucky tried to press back. Then, Steve leaned over and pressed his right hand into Bucky's bicep, putting more weight on it. He didn't touch the left one, hesitating, and Bucky's heart exploded in his chest.

I love you.

"It's okay," he whispered. "I can take it."

I trust you.

With that, Steve growled, putting his weight on Bucky's upper arms and snapping his hips, hard and fast. Bucky's cries would not – could not be contained. Even as Steve's thrusts felt like they left welts on his thighs, Bucky felt him press kisses against his left shoulder, along his neck, and anywhere else he could reach.

The new position had Steve's dick hitting Bucky's prostate with each thrust and he tried to press back against it, take more, but Steve's arms held him down. Bucky thought for a moment about fighting more, about getting a rise out of Steve, but he was more desperate to come than to have that sort of fun.

"Please," he begged again, louder. "Please, Steve."

"You wanna come?" Steve growled in Bucky's ear. "You've been such a good boy," he whispered. "Doing as I say, taking my cock so good."

"Oh fuck," Bucky groaned – that filthy mouth could probably make him blow his load all on its own.

"I wanna feel you come, baby," Steve groaned. "Come for me."

"Oh, oh, oh my God," Bucky groaned as Steve's hips pounded over and over at just the right angle.

"Come. For. Me." He ordered, punctuating each word with a thrust.

Bucky nodded, "I'm gonna, Steve, I'm –" and he couldn't say another word because he was seeing white spots and feeling like his body would combust in flames. He pressed his face into the pillow to muffle the sounds he made as he felt wetness beneath him.

"Fuck," Steve groaned, releasing Bucky's arms. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby." Steve was still moving, his hips stuttering with his own impending orgasm, but each thrust still hit Bucky's prostate. "Oh, God, Buck," he groaned, "Didn't know it could be this way. So glad you're mine." Bucky was shaking with the intensity of his orgasm but he reveled in the overstimulation. "I'm gonna come in you, fill you up, baby, fuck," Steve said, hot breath on Bucky's neck, and then he slammed home, wrapping his arms around Bucky's chest and biting his right shoulder, hard, hard enough that Bucky thought he might come again.

When Steve's hips stopped twitching, Bucky felt him grip the base of the condom and slip out. Bucky gasped at the sensation but Steve kissed his shoulder, the one he'd bitten, shushing him.

Bucky turned his head, grinning like a fool, and watched Steve throw it away in the trash by the door. When Steve returned, he grabbed the towel from the night before and used it to wipe himself down, then he knelt on the bed.

"I'm gonna get you cleaned up, baby," he whispered and eased Bucky onto his right side, watching his face for signs of pain as he did.

First, he tossed the soiled pillow to the floor and then used the towel to wipe Bucky's stomach and dick off, gently. When he was finished, he threw the towel off of the bed and lay down on his right side, pulling Bucky's back against his chest. He began rubbing Bucky's left arm and shoulder, pressing kisses against it all the while, and whispering gentle words about how well he did, how amazing he was, and how Steve couldn't have imagined it would ever feel that way. Bucky's head was foggy and he melted at Steve's praises.

"How are you, baby?" Steve whispered.

Bucky smiled, "I'm so good, Stevie." There was an ache in his shoulder that he knew would be worse later, he still felt relaxed and blissful.

Steve nuzzled the back of his neck and continued massaging him. A shiver raced down Bucky's spine when he felt Steve's breath on his skin. "You were so good for me. That was incredible," he said.

Bucky's eyes were closed, basking in the warmth that Steve gave him. He bit his lip against the intensity of his emotions, wanting to tell Steve how he felt but knowing it was too soon. It scared him a bit, how hard he was falling and how fast. He was afraid to put his all into this...this relationship and learn that Steve hadn't done the same.

He swallowed and focused on his breathing.

As if he had read Bucky's thoughts, Steve began, "Buck, I…" but hesitated. Bucky turned his head to look at Steve over his shoulder. His face was pensive, even a bit nervous, and he met Bucky's eyes. "I know we've only been seeing each other for a little while and, I know, most of it has begun and ended in a bed, but I… I really – I really care about you." Bucky turned more, looking at Steve straight on. "And I want to take you out," he continued as Bucky's eyes widened. "On a date," he added.

Bucky blinked. "Like, in public?"

Steve laughed, a deep, sexy sound that Bucky felt against him. "Yeah, in public."

Bucky turned more until he felt a twinge in his left arm and hissed, grabbing it. Steve went back to massaging it, focusing on the joint, and pressed more kisses to it.

"What do you need?"

Bucky whispered, "My brace."

Without another word, Steve was slipping away and racing out of the room to find Bucky's duffle bag. He recalled they'd left it in the bathroom the night before. When Steve returned, he was holding the stabilizing strap and Bucky sat up.

"Need help?" Steve asked.

Bucky nodded, "Yeah, it's a bitch to tighten."

He showed Steve how it slipped on and then directed him further, ensuring the strap would stay put. He sighed when they'd gotten it on right and felt the tension melt from his body.

Steve kept pressing his lips to Bucky's shoulder. "Hungry?" He asked.

Bucky groaned, "Yes. And, coffee?"

Steve nodded, "Better."

Bucky began pulling his pants on, though the pain in his shoulder and limited range of motion quickly made it difficult. Jeans were always hard, he had determined. They were often tight and he had to pull to get them on. But they made his ass look great, so he took the pain.

Steve saw him struggling and walked over. "Let me," he said in a quiet but stern voice.

Bucky hesitated, biting his lip. Steve had said he wanted to take care of Bucky and, maybe, this was his way of doing that. He nodded and Steve stepped forward, completing the task easily.

He seemed to read Bucky's mind and said, "You took care of yourself for a year on the streets." Bucky looked up at him. "Let me take care of you. Let me," he said, taking Bucky's face in his hands and kissing him.

What had Maria said to him? "You've always preferred to be able to let others take the reins and steer you. But, in the last year, you had to be in total control at all times. How does it feel to be able to hand some of that over?"

"I…" Bucky whispered against Steve's lips. "I want to… let you."

Steve's voice took on an entirely new affectation when he replied, "That would make me so happy, Bucky." He moved closer and wrapped his arms around Bucky, pulling him into his embrace. "You never answered me," Steve whispered against Bucky's neck, sending shivers cascading over his body.

"W-what?"

He felt Steve smile against his skin. "Will you go on a date with me?"

Bucky had no reservations about his answer; not anymore. "Yes."

That night, Bucky worked with a huge smile on his face and a lot of tenderness in his ass. But each time he bumped into something or tried to sit, he remembered the way Steve felt inside him. He couldn't wait to feel it again.

He knew the ache would get easier over time but, at that moment, he didn't mind a bit.

The following weeks were tough. They'd gotten to see one another only a handful of times, but had barely been in the same room, let alone able to touch each other. They had late night phone sex and Bucky came, but was left dissatisfied. By the third week, Bucky was beginning to feel frustrated by his arrested desire. He knew it wasn't Steve's fault at all; Bucky was the one with two jobs.

Steve suggested that they spend the following Friday night together and Bucky didn't hesitate a bit. Again, Steve told Bucky he planned to pick him up from work. He was set to work at Benny's but May told him to come in at ten, instead of five, to cover for the time Peter would be out.

Steve met him outside of Stark and they rode his Harley over the Brooklyn Bridge, into Manhattan, to Natasha's apartment. Fall was settling in around them, so the air was cold against his skin but he hardly noticed. In the night, the lights of the city looked like stars of different colors and shapes. Bucky had always loved this view, though having lived most of his life in Brooklyn, he didn't get to see it very often.

Sharing it with Steve felt like a gift, a benediction. It felt like he was finally clean.

They made it to the apartment and showered, kissing one another under the spray. Steve was less frenzied this time but Bucky could hardly hold himself together. When they finally reached the bedroom, he tried to take control and lead, but Steve pressed him into the mattress and held his hands down.

"You gonna be good?" He asked in a husky voice. "Or do we need to stop?"

"N-no, please," Bucky begged. "Please, don't stop. I just… I missed you."

Steve's look softened. "I missed you too, baby," he replied, "so much." He leaned back but when Bucky tried to reach for him, Steve pushed his arms back down. "We're gonna have a lot of fun tonight," he whispered.

Bucky grinned and they began a dance of lips and tongues and teeth. Steve was pinching Bucky's nipples as he worked him over, but Bucky lost full awareness of what was happening after a short time. He knew that Steve's fingers were wet with lube, prepping him gently, all while Steve's lips kissed him with harsh intensity.

He barely noticed when Steve broke away to get the condom wrapper open. He whined when Steve's fingers disappeared but moaned, wantonly, when Steve pressed inside him.

"Oh, God," Bucky cried out as Steve lifted his legs up and began pounding into him.

"Yeah, baby boy," Steve groaned.

Bucky still had his hands up; he was sure he would rip the sheets but he didn't care. He threw his head back and groaned as Steve's every thrust hit his prostate. "St-Steve, wanna – wanna touch you, please," he begged but Steve shook his head.

"No," Steve rasped, then pulled out, "Flip over, baby." Bucky pouted for a moment but he could tell that Steve was unmoved, so he let Steve maneuver him to his knees. Bucky reached for a pillow to put beneath his shoulder, but Steve stopped him. "No, like this," then pushed his cock inside Bucky and sat back on his heels, pulling Bucky upright.

The position pressed Bucky's back against Steve's chest, but it also pushed Steve deeper inside him. They both moaned and Bucky shivered. "Oh, oh, fuck, Stevie," he gasped when Steve helped him lift his hips a bit so he could continue fucking him. Mindful that Steve had not told him he could touch, yet, he gripped his own thighs, digging his nails in.

Bucky began moving too, almost without realizing he was doing it, and Steve's responding growl spurred him on. Steve's hands began moving over Bucky's chest, belly, shoulders, and over his cock.

"F-fuck, Stevie, you're gonna make me come," he whispered and let his head fall back.

"Yeah?" Steve breathed into his ear and Bucky nodded. "Touch me, baby boy."

Bucky didn't need to be told twice. He reached his right hand up and back, gripping Steve's hair while his left hand gripped Steve's shoulder to help steady himself. He turned his head, seeking Steve's mouth, a silent request, which Steve granted.

"Oh, God, baby, you feel so good," Steve groaned, fucking him faster and harder. "Wanna feel you come on my dick."

"Yes, yes, Stevie," he nodded his head. "Please, please, let me."

"I got you," he said, taking hold of Bucky's cock in a firm grip and stroking. "You wanna come?"

"Yes, Sir," Bucky groaned, though he said it without meaning to.

Steve's reaction was immediate; he grabbed Bucky's hip with his free hand and held him still, thrusting up hard and fast. Bucky dug his nails into Steve's shoulder and gripped his hair tighter. He was spiraling; his abdomen was clenching and he was shaking. His breathing had turned into loud moans and then he was crying out and coming all over Steve's fist.

"Oh, fuck, baby boy, you feel so fuckin' good, gonna come in you," Steve groaned, releasing his dick to grab his other hip, slamming into Bucky one final time and biting down on the meat of his shoulder.

"Ah!" Bucky knew his nails broke skin but he felt more come pulse out of him and on the bed.

They remained that way, except Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky's chest and pressed soft kisses against the burning skin on his back. Bucky let his arms relax, though he was entirely unsure how his left arm had stayed up for so long. Without their support, however, Bucky almost fell forward and Steve chuckled as he held him tighter.

"You hungry?" He asked and Bucky could hear the grin in his voice.

"Starved," he replied, turning his head to press a kiss to Steve's lips.

* * *

Bucky woke up to Steve's voice; his body was clenched and he was covered in sweat. He heard himself whimpering. "It's okay," Steve whispered. "You're with me, you're safe."

"Steve," he whispered.

"Shhh, it's okay, I got you," Steve kissed his forehead. "I've got you."

Bucky met his eyes and saw… "Did I hit you?" Steve's right cheek had an angry, red mark forming over the bone and, just then, the knuckles of Bucky's left hand began to throb. "Oh, God, I hit you."

"It was my own fault," he said, shaking his head. "You were asleep, Bucky. You didn't haul off and punch me. You looked like you were trapped so I got up and pulled the blankets away, but you clipped me."

Bucky looked away and said, "I'm sorry, I –"

"I'm fine. Are you okay? Do you have dreams like this often?"

Bucky nodded, "Most nights."

"You didn't last time you were here," Steve said, though there was no implication in his tone.

"I think, um, I think you wore me out," he tried to joke.

Steve fought the grin that threatened to overtake his face; Bucky saw it. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. "For next time."

He still wants a 'next time,' Bucky thought, biting his lip.

"I'm sorry, again," he said, quietly.

"Please, don't be," Steve said. "Do you think you can go back to sleep?"

Bucky shook his head but said, "You can. I'll be okay."

Steve smiled and shook his head. "I'm hungry."

They got out of bed and Steve helped Bucky with the shoulder strap, as he had before. While Steve stepped away to grab a shirt from the duffle, Bucky zipped and buttoned his pants, still feeling warm from Steve's affection. The shirt Steve found was the red one he'd given Bucky that first day and he helped Bucky slip it over the brace, smiling.

Stepping away, Steve said, "You look good in red."

Bucky smiled, "Thanks. The shirt you're wearing," and gestured toward the blue polo Steve had on, "it brings out your eyes."

Steve smiled and kissed him again, a sweet press of the lips, then excused himself to the bathroom. When he emerged, Bucky went in to brush his teeth and hair which, after a night of awesome sex, was a mess.

But just thinking of what they'd done, of the way Steve felt and how he'd taken such care, Bucky felt his stomach flutter. Fuck, he thought, gripping the vanity counter and trying to suppress the desire creeping its way out. They'd just had sex and he wanted to go again, even though he was already sore. That thought reminded him of the now more-than-tender feeling below his belt but he smiled, knowing who put it there.

When he came out, Steve was in the kitchen, standing at a massive stainless steel espresso machine. Bucky wasn't sure how he'd missed it before, it took up so much of the counter space.

Steve's back was to Bucky but he said, "Almost ready."

"Can I do anything?" Bucky asked, stepping into the kitchen. "I used to be a good cook."

Steve smiled at him, "I bet you still are." Bucky grinned back. "I'd love it if we cooked breakfast together."

Bucky blushed and nodded, "What do you want?"

"I know we have eggs, milk, some bacon, and vegetables. Omelets?" Steve suggested.

"Sounds good," Bucky replied, heading toward the two door fridge along the wall. "I like to cook bacon in the oven," he said over his shoulder, "less greasy. Is that okay?"

"You have free reign in here," Steve replied, setting a mug on the counter for Bucky.

Bucky found some sweet cream and the bacon in the fridge, placing both on the counter. He set the oven temperature, while Steve found a baking sheet and put foil on it. Bucky laid out several strips of bacon and then washed his hands. He poured some flavored cream in his coffee mug and returned it and the bacon to the fridge. He found a bag of spinach, some chopped peppers, and diced onions, which he placed on the counter.

While Bucky worked, Steve leaned against the counter, watching him.

Bucky caught sight of him and asked, "What is it?"

Steve grinned and said, "Just imagining fucking you on the counter."

Bucky bit his lip against the intense wave of lust that crashed over him. "Jesus," he whispered, stepping toward Steve and reaching out. He ran his thumb across Steve's bottom lip. "This fucking mouth," he said.

Steve's grin was feral; he cocked an eyebrow, his voice a low rumble, "You complaining?"

Bucky shook his head. "No, Sir," he said, trying it out to gauge Steve's interest. He didn't consider himself one to enjoy being controlled entirely, never wanted that one bit, but he already trusted Steve so far beyond what he imagined he would or could.

Steve's transformation was immediate: his posture changed, making him somehow bigger; his eyes darkened and his voice deepened.

"You like my mouth, baby boy?" He rasped. "Like when I talk dirty? Get you all riled up with just my voice?"

So much for just enjoying these roles in the bedroom, Bucky thought with a grin.

"Yes," he replied, then added, "Sir."

Steve was directly in front of Bucky then, looming over him, fixing him to that spot. There was nothing about the pose that was meant to scare Bucky. It was simply dominant and was, in fact, turning him on.

Steve was about the pounce, about to seize Bucky in his grip and do unspeakable things to him, when the oven chirped. The sound was loud enough to knock both of them from their reverie and Bucky moved around Steve to slide the baking sheet in the oven.

"It takes about ten minutes at this temp," Bucky said, his tone breathy and quiet.

"Hmm," Steve hummed, suddenly right behind Bucky. "What I could do to you in ten minutes…"

Bucky grinned, staring straight ahead still. "Stevie, if you keep going, we're not gonna have time to eat," he said, though his tone was unconvincing, even to his own ears.

"Oh, I'll eat," Steve replied and Bucky could just hear the grin in his voice.

"Steve!" He whined. "You're killin' me here."

Steve spun him around and his hands gripped Bucky's thighs; quicker than he knew Steve could move, Bucky was sitting on the counter. "Kiss me," Steve ordered and Bucky obliged, gripping Steve's soft hair and pressing their lips together.

God, he thought, I love how he can just manhandle me.

After what felt like mere seconds, they were ripped from their lustful trance by someone clearing her throat. Steve pulled back and looked behind him while Bucky tried to push himself off of the counter.

"Hey Nat," Steve said, as if she had not just caught them making out.

She caught the tone and raised one eyebrow. "I see you took my advice."

Steve nodded, "Um, Nat this is –"

"We've met," she interrupted, leaning over to see Bucky behind Steve.

"Hey," he waved, still trying to escape Steve's grip. "We're, uh, cooking omelettes, if you're hungry."

She smirked, "I already ate, plus I don't know if I'd trust any food that came from this kitchen right now."

Steve chuckled and, while he was acting as if he was unfazed, Bucky saw the blush on his ears and neck. "Don't you have to work today?" He asked.

"Yes, but I need a shower first." Nat began walking toward the hallway, then stopped. "Bucky, when is your next night off?"

"I'm off tonight but not again until next Sunday," he answered.

"Good," she replied without explanation before continuing on her way.

Bucky turned to Steve, "Why did she ask?"

Steve smiled, "She, um, she wants to invite you to dinner."

Bucky felt himself smiling too and said, "Okay, if you'd be okay with that."

"Yeah, Buck, of course," Steve replied, leaning down to press a kiss to Bucky's cheek. "I told you, I want to do those things."

Bucky nodded, remembering what Steve had told him that morning. "Actually, um, what do you have planned for tomorrow?" He intended to use this as a lead-in to telling Steve about the apartment.

Steve hesitated for a moment, "Sam invited me over to watch baseball." He looked torn; Bucky could tell Steve wanted to invite him along but they both knew that wasn't possible yet.

Will it ever be? Bucky thought, recognizing another barrier for them was Steve coming out to his friends. How was he going to explain his sudden interest in dick? Well, Bucky's dick.

"I'd um," Steve began and Bucky already knew what he was going to say. I'd invite you but I'd lose my job and my license, plus my friends think I'm straight. Luckily, Steve didn't say all of that – he simply smiled at Bucky, though his eyes were sad.

"I know," Bucky said, knowing his face held the same expression. "I'm actually busy too, I've got –" But the sound of the oven timer interrupted him and he immediately pulled the bacon out.

Steve grabbed a mixing bowl and cracked six eggs into it, then added some milk, salt, and pepper, and the vegetables, then began stirring the contents together. Bucky found a frying pan and oiled it. Steve's eyes kept drifting to Bucky, curious about what he had been about to say though, before they could continue any conversations, Nat emerged and made a large cappuccino for herself. Once Bucky finished cooking the omelets, they all took seats at the small dining table.

"So," Nat began, looking at Bucky, "did Steve invite you for dinner?"

Bucky glanced at Steve before he answered, "Yeah."

"Next Sunday," she said smiling. "Bruce Banner, my boyfriend, will be here too," she added with a sly smile.

Bucky worried his lip for a few moments before asking Steve, "Dr. Bruce Banner? Is that a good idea?"

"You know Bruce?" Nat asked, though her grin had faltered.

Bucky nodded, "He's my doctor."

Steve looked at Bucky, his face reserved and thoughtful. Bucky noticed that Natasha was staring at Steve too, though her expression was easier to read. She was angry. "I get that this situation isn't straightforward, Steve," she said, doing her best to keep her tone light. "But eventually people will find out. You can't just hide –"

"I'm not hiding him, Nat," he said, his tone defensive. "It's complicated."

Bucky felt his heart fall into his stomach. This was all information he knew already; Steve's job wasn't the only thing on the line. He could lose his license, or lose the opportunity to work with veterans ever again.

"I –" Bucky began, but clamped his mouth shut. He couldn't say "I love you and can't do this to you," so he stood up from the table and took his plate to the sink. He kept his eyes on the floor as he returned to Steve's bedroom.

Though she was whispering, he clearly heard Nat say, "Fix this," followed by Steve's chair sliding along the enamel floor. Bucky didn't stop to tell them it wasn't something that needed fixing.

I'm damaged, maybe even broken, but it isn't Steve's job to fix me.

He was packing his things up in the bedroom when the door opened behind him. "Buck," Steve said and Bucky heard anxiety and longing in his voice.

"What would happen to you if they found out about us?" Bucky asked, avoiding Steve's eyes.

He didn't need to see Steve to know he had that Captain America posture. "Whatever it is," he answered in a steadfast tone, "I'll deal with it."

Bucky sighed. "I'm not sure I'm worth all this, Steve," he said, continuing to pack without so much as glancing in Steve's direction.

"What are you talking about?" Steve asked, shock and confusion evident in his voice.

Bucky didn't need to list the parts of Steve's life and livelihood that were at risk because of him – his job, license, friends. He didn't need to tell Steve what was at stake. Steve wasn't an idiot. Bucky turned to look at him, finally, and was struck by the pain in his eyes. He was completely blindsided by this and Bucky felt angry with himself.

He said, "I've… done things, Steve. I'm not –"

"Please, stop saying you're worthless," Steve pleaded, stepping forward; his ever-patient voice was straining with the emotion beneath it.

"Steve, I –"

"Bucky, just say it," he said and, while the statement was an order, his tone was almost desperate.

"I – when I was homeless, I – I did things for money." The words fell out of his mouth like heavy weights. "Before I was homeless, sometimes I – I needed a fix but I didn't have money, so I –"

Bucky didn't finish the statement, though; he cut himself off when he saw the way Steve's demeanor changed. The expression wasn't disgusted or judgmental, as Bucky had presumed it would be. In fact, he couldn't have ever dreamt that Steve would hold such a look. His brows were knotted together, eyes bright and wet, cheeks red.

"Bucky," he whispered, stepping forward.

Bucky stayed put, though his instinct was to run away. No, I have to leave. I can't do this to him. Steve maintained their eye contact as he approached and the look on his face was reverent, awed, and determined.

"Nothing could make me think less of you," Steve said, reaching out to pull Bucky close. His right hand held Bucky's jaw, forcing him to hold Steve's gaze. "Nothing could make me not love you."

Bucky's eyes widened and he felt his entire body heat up. "You – you love me?"

Steve smiled. "I'm not afraid of this, Buck. I'm not running. I'm not hiding. Yeah, it's complicated but I'm not going anywhere." He pressed a kiss to Bucky's lips, a simple brush of the lips. "I want this with you. I have for months, even before I admitted it to myself. My friends won't care that I'm dating a man and if they do, I'll deal with it."

Bucky whispered, "What about at the shelter?"

Steve sighed, pulling Bucky into a hug, "We'll have to be careful but, once you're out, it won't matter." His arms were tight and he rubbed Bucky's back, comforting him.

Bucky needed to wipe his eyes but didn't want to let go. He had a tight hold around Steve's neck and he could feel his left arm beginning to protest the lengthy embrace.

Steve's hand came up to rest on Bucky's left shoulder, very gently, and Bucky tensed, uncontrollably. Under his tender touch, the quiver eased.

"I know you hate this," Steve whispered, rubbing his thumb along the bone and muscle that was so marred beneath Bucky's shirt. "I know it hurts and reminds you of so many horrible things," he continued, pressing gentle kisses along Bucky's neck. "But this brought us together. It brought you to me. If I could, I would take away the pain but I wouldn't change a thing about you."

"Steve," he whispered, his voice was thick with emotion. His tears were falling faster and heavier as Steve spoke such wonderful words. "I – I love you, too. I don't deserve you."

The weight of those words had been holding him down for weeks and, when they were out, he was suddenly buoyant and inexplicably happy. All of the fear and shame evaporated.

"I love you, Buck," Steve said, wrapping his arms tighter around Bucky's waist. "We should never be afraid of something like this," he whispered in Bucky's hair.

Remembering that night at the lake, when Steve had looked so thoughtful, Bucky realized that Steve had been telling him how he felt. He'd said it so many times in so many different ways and Bucky hadn't felt worthy enough to believe it.

* * *

The drive from Natasha's apartment was slow going in the midmorning traffic. Bucky joked that he could walk faster than they were driving and Steve chuckled.

"Nice blinker, sir," Steve grumbled at an expensive looking silver car after the driver cut them off. "This is what I get for staying with Nat in Manhattan."

"We could have taken the bike," Bucky offered.

"Could have," Steve agreed, but added, "It's pretty cold this morning. The weather says it's supposed to snow."

Bucky shivered, "When I was a kid, I loved the snow but, not anymore."

Steve nodded his head, "I'm not a huge fan, either. I hate being cold."

"Where'd you grow up?" Bucky asked, curious.

"Brooklyn," he replied. "Greenpoint, specifically. You?"

"Shelbyville, Indiana," Bucky said, smiling. "Rebecca – my sister – still lives there."

"That's a long way." Steve glanced over, "You two close?"

Bucky shook his head, looking out the window. "No, I, uh, messed up one too many times."

Steve reached over and squeezed Bucky's hand. "I'm sorry, Buck."

Bucky smiled, "Thanks. Do you have siblings?"

Steve shook his head, "No, it was just me and my mom for a long time. My dad died when I was really little." Bucky didn't want to speak yet but he did grip Steve's hand tighter. "Mom and I did okay. She worked as a nurse, which is the only reason I'm alive today."

"What do you mean?" Bucky asked.

"I was sick a lot," Steve explained. "I got pneumonia pretty much every year; I had asthma, anemia, scoliosis, heart arrhythmia, the list goes on."

"Jesus, Steve," Bucky breathed. "But you – you're healthy now?"

Steve nodded and grinned, "As a horse."

Bucky's brows were furrowed when he asked, "How?"

Steve took a deep breath. "When I was fourteen, my doctor told us I probably wouldn't live past eighteen. My heart was bad and getting worse; add in all of the other health issues, he was actually surprised I'd lived that long." Bucky noticed that as Steve continued to speak, his eyes seemed to be looking farther away, as if he were speaking without total awareness. "My mom heard of an experimental drug that had massive success.

"It was more than we could afford but she mortgaged the house, sold the car, worked double shifts, just so I could do it. And it worked. By eighteen, I had grown a foot and a half; my asthma and arrhythmia were gone, and I haven't had to wear a back brace in more than a decade."

Bucky's eyes were wide. "That sounds like a miracle."

"It truly was. It hurt a lot but my mom was desperate; she just wanted me to reach adulthood."

"She sounds like an incredible woman," Bucky said, squeezing Steve's hand.

Steve smiled, "Yeah, she was."

Bucky's head jerked up. "Oh, Stevie, I'm so sorry, I didn't – I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. Thank you," he smiled. "What about your mom?"

Bucky shook his head. "She died in a car accident when I was twelve."

"I'm sorry, Buck," he whispered and lifted Bucky's left hand to press a kiss against the back of it.

"My dad and I got closer after she was gone. I'm glad you were there for me when he died." Bucky heard the quiver in his voice but ignored it.

Steve nodded his head and they sat in companionable silence for a while, listening to the bustle of the city. When they had stopped in traffic for a few moments, Steve asked, "Do you want me to tell you what you did for me overseas?"

Bucky smiled and nodded, "Sure."

"You know that I wasn't well liked by some of the Privates in my unit. Some of them thought they'd try to pull a Full Metal Jacket on me. I'd been drinking a bit and I was in the alley, throwing up, when they came up behind me. Caught me totally unprepared."

Bucky's brows were furrowed with anger; he'd never heard of such a thing happening. His hand was shaking as he tried to grip Steve tighter.

"I'm okay," he said, smiling at Bucky. "They were beatin' me pretty good, though, and out of nowhere, I hear this voice," he said, grinning wider. "You came walking down the alley and said, 'Three against one? That ain't a fair fight. Why don't you try that with me?'" Bucky laughed but something about the statement felt so familiar to him. "I tried to get up and help but you had 'em." Bucky tried to process the information he was hearing; something about it clicked. "I ended up in the field hospital for the night and you stayed with me."

"Damn, I'm pretty smooth," he joked, meeting Steve's gaze with a grin. "Yeah, I'd been planning this whole seduction for years."

Steve laughed, "Yeah? Starting that night, huh?"

"Fuck, yeah," Bucky said, smirking. "It's the long game."

"Well, what are you gonna do now that you got me?" Steve asked, his tone darkening with lust.

Bucky bit his lip and leaned over the console and ran his right hand up Steve's thigh. He grinned as the blush spread over Steve's cheeks, the tips of his ears, and down his neck. "When can I see you again?"

Steve swallowed hard and said, "What about tomorrow night?"

Bucky smiled, "I actually, um, have been meaning to tell you something."

Steve cocked an eyebrow and said, "Oh?"

"My coworker, Clint, he invited me to move in with him."

"What? When?" Steve's lust drained away and was replaced by excitement.

"His roommate, Scott, is moving out tomorrow and I'm moving in."

"Oh, my God, Buck!" He exclaimed, pulling Bucky into an awkward hug over the console. "Do you need help?"

He shook his head as much as he could and said, "I don't have a lot of stuff."

"That's true but, still," Steve said, pulling back just enough to kiss Bucky's lips. "I'd be there."

Bucky smiled against Steve's mouth and said, "No, have fun with Sam."

Steve deepened the kiss, slipping his right hand into Bucky's hair. They separated and he retreated to his side of the car to get back to driving when the car behind them honked its horn.

Bucky turned to look out his window; something caught his attention but he wasn't sure what it was. There were a lot of people on the sidewalk but none of them were looking at the street. He checked the side mirror too, then turned to look behind them.

"What is it?" Steve asked as traffic began moving.

Bucky shook his head, "Nothin'."

"Okay," Steve said. "So, you don't have any furniture; does this place come with anything?"

Bucky shook his head, "No, I'm gonna need to buy a bed, dresser, and some other stuff."

Steve smiled and said, "Actually, at my place, we – I had a guest room, so I have a whole set up you can use."

"No," Bucky shook his head again. "No, I can't let you do that –"

Steve took Bucky's hand and met his eyes. "Let me take care of you, Buck." His expression was full of affection and sincerity. "I love you and I wantto take care of you."

"But, Steve, what if –"

"I'm not going anywhere, Buck," Steve interrupted. "Let me do this for you. Until you're out of the program, I can't – I have to –"

"Okay," Bucky said without a hint of anything but happiness in his voice. "I'd love to borrow some stuff until I can buy my own."

"Or," Steve said, smirking, "until you and it moves in with me."

Bucky's eyes went wide and he turned to Steve. "What?"

Steve sighed and put a hand up, "Not right away. You don't have to say anything. But, yeah, eventually, I'd like to talk about it. Which is why," he added, smiling, "I'd like you to come with me next Sunday. I'm going apartment hunting."

* * *

While Bucky worked that night, he was in a daze. Steve had rarely discussed their relationship, let alone the future of it. But, then, out of nowhere, he brought up moving in together. Bucky hadn't given him an answer and all Steve had done was take Bucky's hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

He had been walking slowly much of the night from the discomfort but it only reminded him of their time together. Each time he thought of the way Steve felt, Bucky's skin turned hot and he had to take a few breaths to calm down. After a few hours, he hardly noticed any soreness.

While Bucky was on his break, Clint came over to where he leaned against the bar and struck up a conversation. He let Bucky know that Scott was going to help Bucky bring his stuff in, so Bucky was more than happy to offer his assistance to move Scott's belongings out. They set the time for ten the next morning and Bucky could hardly contain his happiness.

Bucky pulled his jacket on before heading out into the cold November air. As he was walking past the alley, he recognized the sound of Brock's voice again and couldn't help but look. Again, Brock was talking with someone who passed him a wad of cash. Brock counted the bills and then passed the man a baggy, discreetly. He hadn't seen Bucky as he rushed away.

Seeing this brought on more conflicted feelings in Bucky than it had previously. Brock had been in the program longer than Bucky, which meant that he'd had more time to find a legitimate job. But, instead, he continued selling heroin and who knew what else, all while milking the program for a place to stay.

Bucky felt a flash of anger for veterans, like Dum Dum, who lived on the streets, while an asshole like Brock Rumlow took a spot in the shelter. He wasn't sure that they would believe him if he accused Brock but he remembered the first time they'd met and he'd been sure that Brock had some on him.

If they searched his room, they'd locate it and he would lose his spot.

Bucky wondered if Steve's Boy Scout nature was rubbing off on him. Or, maybe, he'd had it in him all along, considering the story Steve had told him. He had a set image of himself in his own mind – greedy, filthy, shameful – yet, Steve gave him a counterpoint.

Bucky had forgotten that he did good things for others. He'd forgotten that Bucky Barnes hadn't always been a lowlife addict. He'd forgotten who he was.

Bucky Barnes, he thought, with a smirk, a hero, saving hot guys in alleys.

He intended to meet with Maria for his exit interview and he resolved that he would tell her everything. As he was nearing the shelter lobby, a hand gripped his left arm and yanked him backward. The pain was immediate, followed by anger and confusion; he swung around to find Brock Rumlow staring at him.

"Hey, James," he said. The cold air caused his breath to become mist as he spoke. "We should have a chat."

Bucky shook his head, "No, I'm going to sleep."

Brock ignored Bucky's statement. "I know you've seen me and I just wanted to say, you might want to rethink what you're planning to do."

Bucky met Brock's eyes and said, "Excuse me?"

Brock shrugged, "I mean, you can do what you want, but I think you won't like what happens if you do."

"You're threatening me?"

Brock shook his head, "No. But I think you should listen for a second, because if you go in there and tell anyone about me, I'll tell them about you."

Bucky gave a sardonic laugh and asked, "What about me?"

Brock glared, "I know about you." Bucky's smile faded. "Yeah," he continued, "I know about your pal, your buddy, your Stevie." Bucky swallowed hard, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "You already know what'll happen if they find out about you. What do you think that'll do to Steve, huh? He livesfor this place and these guys – he's been with the program since it started. You think, what? He'll forgive you for taking that away from him? You think he'll say 'you did the right thing' when he loses everything?"

Bucky wanted to argue; he wanted to say that Steve wouldn't lose his job; Bucky was leaving the program and no one could prove that they'd been together beforehand. But that wasn't entirely true – if Brock had seen them, how many others had? If Darcy knew, how many other staff did? How many cameras were in the shelter, seeing them sneaking around together?

What if they demanded Maria's records? Could she refuse without getting in trouble herself?

"You know what will happen? You'll tell them and, yeah, maybe I'll lose my room, but they won't want to call the police. They'll just kick me out. I'll keep doing what I've been doing this whole time, but Steve will lose his job. You think he'll ever be able to look at you again? No, he'll drop you, like that –" and Brock snapped his fingers right in front of Bucky's face.

He flinched. "Steve wouldn't…" he began but couldn't finish. Even to him, the words held no conviction. He knew how much Steve's job mattered to him, how important his work was. I'm gonna take that away, he thought.

"You know he would," Brock replied, eyes hard and empty. "You know he loves his job, and you're…" He sneered, "a side project. Just a mess to be cleaned up."

Bucky's chest tightened and pain shot through him like a bullet. He tried to hide the tears, to cover the weakness, but Brock had him – belly up, and he knew it.

Bucky knew his choices were simple: pretend he'd never seen a thing, go back to Steve with shame and guilt inside, knowing he wasn't good enough for him. He'd prove he was never good enough for Steve Rogers. Or, he could report Brock for dealing drugs, knowing that Steve would expect him to if it were any other situation.

Steve believed in doing the right thing but this was different. This would ruin his life. Bucky felt numb as he wrenched his arm from Brock's grip and kept walking. He arrived at the shelter and immediately took a shower. His face had been wet before the water hit it but he ignored it.

When he returned to his room, he checked his phone to find a text from Steve. He didn't open it right away, though. He sat down on the bed and stared at the screen, hearing Rumlow's voice in his head. "You think, what? He'll forgive you for taking that away from him? You think he'll say 'you did the right thing' when he loses everything?"

After he hiccoughed and choked, he dropped his head into his hands and released a sob. He covered his mouth, trying to bite back the tears. I'm sorry, Stevie, he thought. I'm not good enough for you. The tears fell, regardless of how much he wiped his cheeks. But I'm selfish. I'm so selfish.

He picked up his phone and opened Steve's message.

From: **Stevie** 11:32PM

Gooodnight baby

From: **Bucky** 11:41PM

Goodnight

From: **Stevie** 11:41PM

I'll call you tomorrow.

From: **Bucky** 11:42 PM

Would it still be possible for me to borrow the furniture?

From: **Stevie** 11:42 PM

Of course. Call this number and Happy will deliver it.

Bucky saved the number in his contacts under the name "Happy" and plugged the phone in. He lay down and stared at the ceiling. Sleep came quickly that night but left him in a cold sweat; his muscles clenched and shivering.

The images were the same as always and it left him nauseated to see Pietro's bloodied face staring at him. He worked to unclench his muscles, bit by bit, to achieve his full mobility. Luckily for him, he had worn the stabilizing strap to bed and the deep ache was less than it usually was.

He sat up and was hit by a wave of nausea that sent him racing to the bathroom. He fumbled with the keys but was, finally, able to get inside. He had very little food in his stomach but, whatever had been in there was out now. He gagged for several long, agonizing minutes before he felt he could stand up. His legs shook as he shuffled to the sink to rinse his mouth and wash his face.

Pietro, no, man, it's not a good idea.

His head shot up and he stared at himself in the mirror. Taking deep breaths, he clamped his eyes shut to chase the memory.

Pietro, no, man, it's not a good idea.

He rushed back to his room and grabbed his cell phone off of the charger. He bypassed the waiting message from Steve and called Wanda. He hadn't even checked the time, so when her voicemail answered, he glanced at his clock: three forty-seven.

"Shit," he whispered, listening to her message until the beep. "Wanda, it's me, Bucky, I… I remembered something. I think… I think I tried to stop Pietro from going anywhere that day."

Listening to the words, he was overcome by a sense of shame. Who the hell cared if he told Pietro they shouldn't go anywhere? What would that change? They still left. Pietro still died.

"Um," he said, "I'm sorry, Wanda. Just – just ignore this message. I just – I had a nightmare is all. I'll – I'll call you another time. Sorry again."

He ended the call and sat down on his bed, staring out the small window. He wondered what came over him; he wondered how much that message would hurt Wanda to listen to; he wondered how he had thought that being less guilty for Pietro's death absolved him in any way.

It didn't.

If Pietro had never met Bucky, he would never have shot up. He would still be alive. Bucky couldn't ever be sure that he, himself, would be alive today. In a twisted and terrible way, Pietro's death forced Bucky to get sober.

Steve had said "This brought us together. If I could, I would take away the pain but I wouldn't change a thing about you."

At that moment, Bucky remembered that Steve had sent him a text message and he opened it.

From: **Stevie** 12:19 AM

I love you. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow night if you're not too tired?

Bucky suddenly remembered what had happened the night before. Brock's warning repeated itself over and over in his head. "You think he'll ever be able to look at you again?"

He shook himself.

From: **Bucky** 3:40 AM

I'd love that.

He set his phone down on the desk and lay back, staring at the ceiling. He stayed there for what felt like hours, hearing Rumlow's voice, replaying every word he'd said. Finally, he rose and dressed in his gym clothes. He spent an hour lifting weights and even jogged a little on the treadmill before going to take a shower.

He went to a nearby coffee shop and bought breakfast. As he sat, staring at the people passing by, he grit his teeth. Pull yourself together, he thought. He stood and tossed his garbage in a bin, then returned to his room to pack up all of his belongings. He checked and rechecked every drawer and crevice to ensure he was not leaving anything behind.

Lifting the bag hurt and, when he looked at his arm, he saw a grouping of small bruises. Fingertips. He dug out a long sleeved shirt and pulled it on.

By that time, it was after nine and he decided to make his way to the apartment. He arrived, with his canvas bag and a box of stuff, and saw that there was a moving van on the street already. He rang the bell for 417.

"Hello?" Clint's voice came over the line.

"Hey, it's Bucky, I know I'm early –"

"Come on up, man!" Clint said, hitting the button to unlock the door.

When Bucky arrived, Clint had the door open and was maneuvering around boxes and furniture. Scott was talking on his cell phone and Hope was sitting on the couch. She waved to Bucky and he waved back.

"Bucky, you can set your stuff in the room," Clint suggested and Bucky took his advice, tucking the box and bag in his room.

It looked different without the bed and other furniture in it but Bucky loved it. It was bigger than his room at the shelter and the sunlight came right in through the window. He imagined what Steve's furniture looked like and how well it would fit, then he felt butterflies in his stomach, remembering that Steve had brought up moving in together.

He pulled his phone out and saw a message from Steve.

From: **Stevie** 5:16AM

I have the perfect place in mind. I hope you got back to sleep okay.

Bucky smiled against the cold memory of what had woken him up, of what had happened.

From: **Bucky** 9:46

A bit. Just a nightmare.

"Hey," Bucky looked up to find Hope walking over. "We're gonna start loading stuff downstairs."

He smiled, "I'm here to help."

Slowly and awkwardly, they carried his bed, the frame, and his other furniture down the stairs since the elevator was too small. Bucky's arm would be completely useless after a short amount of time, so he took breaks and iced it. Clint offered him some ibuprofen, too, which he gladly accepted. The brace helped a lot but he didn't know how long he could keep it up.

At twelve-thirty, they stopped to order pizza for lunch and Bucky vacuumed the bedroom and opened the windows to invite some fresh air in. The dust in the air was making his nose stuffy, so he located some allergy medicine in his bag.

After they ate and the Benadryl kicked in, they continued working at a steady pace. Once everything was packed into Scott's moving van, Hope hugged Clint and Bucky goodbye before driving to their new place.

Bucky called the number that Steve had sent him. It rang three times, then a man's voice answered. "This is Happy. Is this James Barnes?"

"Um, yeah," he said, "please, call me 'Bucky'."

"Bucky, okay, where am I delivering this stuff?" Bucky gave him directions to the apartment and Happy said, "I'll be there in about an hour."

While they waited, Clint began scouring the living room for any and all dust, dirt, or other mess. Scott leaned toward Bucky, whispering, "He's a huge clean freak, man. Don't even try to clean the bathroom or he flips. I did it once and was afraid to go in it for three days."

When Happy arrived, he was able to park only a few doors down from theirs. A tall, chubby man emerged from the moving truck and approached the three of them. He extended his hand and said, "Happy Hogan. Which one of you is Bucky?"

Bucky approached and accepted the handshake. "Bucky Barnes. This is Clint Barton and Scott Lang," he said, gesturing to the other two respectively.

"Nice to meet you," Happy said, shaking each of their hands as well. "I've got some heavy stuff. What floor are we going to?"

They steadily unloaded the pieces of furniture and Bucky couldn't help but feel grateful that it hadn't snowed yet. He and Scott carried the queen size bed up the stairs, while Clint and Happy carried the dresser. Then, they brought up the small desk, two side tables, a lamp, chair, a bookcase, and the bedframe.

"Jesus," Bucky whispered once it was all in his room.

Happy came up behind him and clapped him on the back. "I'm glad it all fit. I'll let Steve know."

"Do I owe you anything?" Bucky asked. He had garnered quite a bit of savings since he'd begun working.

"Nah, Steve took care of it," Happy said, smirking. "He, uh, he seems happy," he commented, glancing around.

Bucky blinked and smiled back. "Thank you so much," he said and shook Happy's hand again.

"My pleasure," he replied and headed out of the apartment.

Bucky and Clint walked with Scott down to the street. "Thanks, guys," Scott said, hugging Clint and, to Bucky's surprise, him as well. For all the emotional goodbyes, Bucky wondered if Scott had gotten a new job. That was, until he said, "I'll see you tomorrow," and blew them kisses.

"Fuck outta here, Scott," Clint laughed.

They retreated upstairs and Bucky dug through his canvas bag; he pulled out some clean clothes and went to the bathroom. He figured out the shower after a few tries and it felt incredible to wash the sweat and grime off. He let the hot water spray on his left arm and shoulder, too.

When he returned to his room – his room – he collapsed on the floor in awe at the space. It belonged to him.

Home, he thought, I have a home.

He spent some time arranging the furniture, putting the bedframe together, and – with Clint's help – putting the mattress and box springs on it. Bucky used the note app on his phone to make a list of items he would need, including sheets and a blanket.

He was just as sore as he figured he would be after lugging the boxes and furniture up and down stairs. He checked the bruises again and wondered how he would explain it to Steve. He sat on the bed, icing his shoulder, and looking around. The headboard had five dowels across it and Bucky immediately tested their durability to ascertain if Steve could tie him to them. Bucky picked his phone up and texted a photo of them to Steve.

From: **Bucky** 4:16PM

The things you could to me if I was tied down.

After he sent the image, Bucky felt himself flush with nerves, wondering if it had been a bad idea. He knew that Steve was with Sam today; what if Sam saw it? Would Steve be angry with him? Then his phone chirped, informing him that he had a text.

From: **Stevie** 4:19PM

You're such a tease. I should tie you down and leave you there til you've learned your lesson.

Bucky read the message three times, then felt his body relax until he fell, face-first, onto the bed. He took a deep, soothing breath and read it again.

From: **Bucky** 4:25 PM

Aww but Stevie, don't you want to touch me?

From: **Stevie** 4:26PM

Oh, I would touch you, baby boy. I'd drive you wild, make you beg me to let you come.

From: **Bucky** 4:28PM

Fuck, Stevie.

From: **Bucky** 4:28PM

Maybe I should tease you more if you're gonna be like that. ;)

From: **Stevie** 4:29PM

You want that, baby? Want me to tie you down and get you so hot for me? Get you so close over and over, then just come all over you? Open you up, nice and slow, then fuck you til I come? Make you beg and cry for me?

Bucky was palming himself over his jeans, already fully hard. He glanced over to confirm that his door was closed, then he pulled himself out and began stroking. He texted Steve back, quickly.

From: **Bucky** 4:30PM

Please, Stevie. Please can I come over?

From: **Stevie** 4:31 PM

I think I'm going to make you wait.

From: **Bucky** 4:31 PM

No no no Stevie

From: **Stevie** 4:31 PM

Shit. I have to cancel dinner tonight. I'm on call. Emergency with a vet.

From: **Stevie** 4:32 PM

Take a deep breath. Don't touch yourself. Wait for me.

Bucky groaned and dropped his head back onto the bed. He was so horny, how could he wait? He knew Steve really expected him to hold off until they were together.

From: **Bucky** 4:33 PM

Yes Sir

From: **Stevie** 4:33 PM

I'll give you everything you need, baby boy.

From: **Stevie** 4:33 PM

Or maybe you need to wait even longer?

From: **Bucky** 4:35 PM

No, I'll wait for you.

From: **Stevie** 4:35 PM

And why is that?

From: **Bucky** 4:35PM

Because I wanna be good.

From: **Stevie** 4:36PM

You're always so good for me.

* * *

"Oh, fuck, Stevie," Bucky groaned, pressing himself down onto Steve's dick. "I love how big you are, how you fill me up."

"Jesus, Buck," Steve whispered, gripping Bucky's hips tighter. "You can take it slow, baby."

Bucky shook his head, "Don't want to." He was nearly fully seated in Steve's lap. "Want everything."

It had been over a week since they had last been together. The emergency Steve had attended to was just the first of many. The VA therapists took shifts being on-call for the crisis line and to meet with any veterans who went to the ER for suicide attempts. They had cancelled their dinner with Nat and Bruce, though Bucky hadn't felt too bad about that. He did, however, struggle with one thing. Through the following week, Steve was interrupted during phone sex twice, but Bucky had not finished.

He waited.

Finally, they had been able to go to dinner, even though Bucky felt like he could come from the ride on Steve's Harley. While they ate, he had triedto keep his hands to himself, to not tease Steve at all. But Steve, on the other hand, did his damnedest to turn Bucky on. With each bite, he made the sexiest sounds, licked the sauce off of his fork, and pressed his thigh into Bucky's.

When they had gotten to Natasha's apartment, they barely made it to Steve's room before all of their clothes were coming off. Luckily, the bruises had faded and were barely noticeable. Once they were naked, Steve picked Bucky up and sat them on the edge of his bed; Bucky had pushed him back and crawled over him.

Bucky opened himself up while Steve watched him, face full of awe and lust. Bucky wasn't taking it as slowly as he should be; he was rushing through, desperate to have Steve inside him. He wanted to give so much to Steve, to make up for things that he hadn't even done. Yet.

The next morning, Bucky had an appointment with Maria to close out his services. He would be out of the program – a success.

"I'll give you everything you need, baby boy," Steve said, releasing his grip and rubbing his hands over Bucky's ribs.

"Need you," Bucky whispered and released a moan as his ass pressed against Steve's pelvis. "Need you so much, Stevie."

"Fuck," Steve moaned, "you're so tight, baby. Made just for me."

"I wanna ride you," he whispered and Steve didn't even answer, just nodded his head.

Bucky began rolling his hips in easy, deliberate movements, testing how Steve's dick moved with him. After a minute of that, he leaned back, bracing his hands on Steve's thighs as he repeated the motions. Each movement made Bucky gasp and Steve moaned as he watched him. Bucky could see the strain on Steve's face as he held completely still. Steve's head was thrown back and his jaw muscles were clenched. They were both covered in a sheen of sweat but Steve was nearly shaking with the effort he was putting into remaining motionless.

Bucky wanted to see if he could break that control and make Steve go wild. He lifted himself up, nearly letting Steve's cock slip out, then dropped down. Steve growled and grabbed Bucky's hips, thrusting up, hard.

"Oh, fuck, baby boy," he groaned. "Wanna fuck you so hard."

Bucky slowly ground his hips, reveling in the burn he felt. He needed something harder, something rougher. "Want you to," he whispered through heaving breaths. "Come on, Stevie."

"You want me to, baby? Want to see how hard you can take it?"

"Please! Make me take it, Stevie," Bucky leaned forward to brace himself on Steve's chest, allowing Steve more freedom of movement.

I'm going to ruin his life tomorrow, Bucky thought to himself, fighting the pricking in his eyes. Make it hurt, Steve.

Steve bent his knees and gripped Bucky's hips. He met Bucky's eyes and whispered, "Are you sure?" He glanced at Bucky's left arm to show what he meant.

"Yes," he whispered, nodding. "You know I can take it."

Steve nodded his head, meeting Bucky with a level gaze. "I know you can."

Then he thrust hard upward again and Bucky cried out, digging his nails into Steve's skin. Steve kept up his barrage and pulled Bucky down to kiss him. They were both breathing so hard, making the kiss sloppy, but Bucky couldn't even think about kissing etiquette. He was so close to coming and he was seeing stars with each thrust.

"Oh, oh, my God, please, Stevie, please," he begged, reaching down to grip his dick.

Steve saw his hand and slapped it away, taking Bucky in his own hand and stroking in time with his thrusts. "You wanna come, baby boy?" He growled. Bucky nodded, feeling that he was too far gone for words at that moment. "Fuck, you're so beautiful right now, Buck," Steve whispered as if to himself.

Bucky looked down at him and choked out, "Pl-please, please."

Steve nodded his head and stroked Bucky faster. "Go on, baby," he whispered, "come all over me."

Bucky felt like a goddamn rocket as he shook through one of the most intense orgasms of his life. He felt his abdomen clenching around Steve's dick and heard the way Steve gasped because of it. Bucky's eyes had dropped shut but not before he watched his come shoot up Steve's abdomen, chest, and to his neck.

Steve was groaning out desperate sounds and watching Bucky's face as he fucked him through it. Suddenly, though, Steve sat up and grabbed both of Bucky's shoulders – though, the left he gripped a bit gentler – and practically tossed Bucky down on his back. Bucky was so shocked, he yelped but it turned into a moan as Steve tossed both of Bucky's legs over his shoulders and began thrusting again.

"Fuck, baby," he moaned. "Want you all the time, didn't know it could be this good."

Steve was rambling as he always did when he neared his orgasm but Bucky fucking loved it. He loved that Steve could toss him around like that and said the filthiest things, but was also gentle and kind.

"I'm gonna come inside you, fuck, baby, gonna come so hard." Steve groaned when his orgasm hit and bit Bucky's calf.

Bucky gasped at the bite but it didn't hurt – at least, not in a bad way. It was clear that Steve was into biting, as well as dirty talk and hair pulling. By a happy coincidence, Bucky loved those things too.

Steve sagged for a few moments, though he was cognizant enough to not collapse on Bucky. They were both breathing hard and Bucky maneuvered himself to bring his legs down around Steve's waist. Steve smiled and kissed him before he gripped the base of the condom and slipped out of Bucky. He wrapped it in a tissue and took it to the garbage, then he used more to wipe his chest off before he quickly returned to the bed. Bucky moved up the bed and propped himself on his right arm, looking down at Steve.

"Hey," Steve whispered. "Your shoulder okay? Would it help if I massaged it?"

His voice was so sincere, Bucky felt his chest fill with an overwhelming, intense feeling. Shame. "I – God, Steve, I love you so much."

Without meaning to, Bucky's body went weak and he nearly collapsed onto Steve. A deluge of emotions that Bucky had denied himself for so long broke through the mental barriers he'd constructed. He fell against Steve's chest and Steve, immediately, wrapped his arms around Bucky, holding him close.

"I love you, Buck," he whispered. "It isn't anything special that makes me want to take care of you." Bucky's eyes were filling and bit his lip to stop it from quivering. "You deserve to be taken care of."

The tears sprang from Bucky's eyes as if they were fleeing confinement. "Steve," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry," he whispered, though he knew this weak apology wasn't remotely enough.

He felt Steve shake his head. "Don't be, baby. I know – I know it's still hard for you to let me take care of you."

Bucky nodded his head. "You might… get tired of – of taking care of me all the time."

"Never," Steve whispered, rubbing Bucky's back. "You've been afraid of that for a while, haven't you? And that's okay," he said, pressing a kiss to Bucky's neck. "I know I told you how I feel but I think there are some other things I could say. Would that be okay?" Bucky nodded his head. "I know it's only been a couple of months, but I have no reservations. I feel like I've known you my entire life, like – like in another lifetime, we found each other and never let go. I won't ever let go.

"You're everything I've ever wanted in a partner, Buck, and I had no idea that it could be like this. I mean that. You make me so happy and I know it made you nervous when I mentioned moving in together, but I can't help but think about long term with you. I imagine my future and you're there. I want you to be there. I've never felt like this. I feel so… I feel whole. I can't describe how happy you make me.

"When we were on that mountain, you said those wonderful things about me. Now, I'm going to do the same. You are so amazing, James Buchanan Barnes – you're hilarious and sweet, you stand up for others and stick to your principles. You're smart, you're so driven, and I'm just amazed by you every day. You lost everything and you've come so far on your own when you were afraid and felt worthless. But you're not worthless, Buck. You're everything.

"I love spending time with you, talking with you, laughing with you, going to sleep with you, and waking up with you. I love taking care of you and I will never see you as a burden or a failure. You think less of yourself because of your past and I can't imagine how hard it was to go through what you did – but knowing what I know, all I see is your strength and your courage.

"I swear I will never lie to you. I want to be with you in whatever way you need me to be. Whether that's as your friend –" When he said that, Bucky gripped him tighter, "as your boyfriend, your Dom, or something more, I will always want to be with you. Do you believe me?"

As Steve spoke, he had been rubbing gentle circles on Bucky's back, running his fingers through Bucky's hair, and pausing to press kisses against Bucky's shoulder and neck. Bucky didn't answer – he sobbed and hiccupped while Steve comforted him.

"I… I want to."

* * *

Bucky shot up in bed, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Steve was up with him, touching his cheeks with soft, caring hands. But Bucky couldn't see Steve then, couldn't hear his voice; he was seeing his friend die.

"It's okay," he finally heard. "It's okay. You're okay. You're in Nat's apartment with me, it's –" Steve looked over his shoulder – "4:13 in the morning on November 17th." Grounding, Bucky realized; Steve was using a therapy technique to calm him down.

"Did I hurt you?" Bucky asked, finally seeing Steve. He was shocked by how gravelly his voice was.

Steve shook his head, "No, no, you didn't." Bucky released a relieved breath and Steve whispered, "Didn't wear you out enough, huh?"

They laughed together and Bucky let Steve help him out of bed to shower. He tried to stretch but winced. His left arm was practically useless and he had to grit his teeth to keep from crying out when he tried to lift it.

Steve shook his head. "Let me," he whispered and began to wash Bucky down.

When the soap was rinsed off, Steve held him close as they stood under the spray, quietly and carefully massaging his shoulder and bicep. Bucky wondered if Steve had experience with physical therapy or if his hands were just naturally talented, but the pain eased significantly. He would still need to take a lot of ibuprofen and wear his brace when he worked that night but he was no longer on the verge of tears.

Steve whispered just loud enough for Bucky to hear him over the water. "Was it Pietro?"

Bucky looked at him, surprised. "How did –"

"You talk a little in your sleep," he answered, looking sheepish but no less concerned.

Bucky tried to tamper down the embarrassment and answered, "Uh, yeah, it always is."

Steve nodded, touching Bucky's cheeks with a tenderness he hadn't shown before. "I'm here for you to talk to. If you aren't with me, call me. I'll wake up."

"You don't have to –" Bucky tried to interject.

"I know I don't have to, Buck," Steve said. "I want to."

Bucky gasped and shook his head, feeling tears falling. "Thank you," he whispered, leaning against Steve as the water sprayed down around them. "Thank you."

"Of course, baby," he replied in a soft voice, wrapping his arms around Bucky and tucking Bucky's head into the crook of his neck.

Bucky knew he was not getting back to sleep after that nightmare; there was no way in hell. When they stepped out of the shower, Steve grabbed towels but set his own aside. He dried Bucky off, smiling, and saying words of encouragement and affection.

"I'm so lucky. I can't believe how amazing you are; so brave and strong. I'll never take you for granted. I'll always take care of you, as long as you'll let me."

"I love you," Bucky whispered and Steve's smile turned radiant.

"I love you, too," he said, pressing small kisses to Bucky's left shoulder.

They had a very early breakfast, during which Steve explained the process of leaving the program. He described the steps for Bucky – of which there were only a few. Steve dropped Bucky off at his apartment at seven-fifteen that morning and they shared a few passionate and excited kisses.

The hiding, the running around – it was almost over.

Bucky used his key to slip into the apartment as quietly as he could. He dropped his bag to the floor and toed off his shoes, then walked into the kitchen. He found the coffee in the cupboard, as well as filters and dry cream. It took him a few minutes to figure out how the machine worked but he was able to, finally, get it percolating.

He was about to go to his room to change his clothes when he heard Clint's door open. He smiled, though his back was to the hallway.

"I got coffee brewing," he said, turning to find not Clint – but Drax. Shirtless. "Oh, uh –" he stuttered, his eyes wide, but he was silenced by a look he could only describe as steely.

"This will not be discussed," Drax said in his grim voice. He pulled his shirt on just as Bucky comprehended that the tribal tattoos that stretched up Drax's neck onto his head were also all over his torso as well.

Bucky could only nod his head and watch as Drax pulled his shoes on and left the apartment. After a few moments of staring at the door, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Bucky!" Clint said, grinning as he approached.

Fuck, Bucky thought, that's a glow if I ever saw one.

"H-hey, uh, did Drax just, um…" Bucky stopped, pointing to the door with his thumb. "Is that really going on?"

"Yep," he replied, grinning ear to ear.

Clint grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and poured them each some coffee, then he set out sugar and actual cream. He tossed the dry cream into the trash without a second thought, all the while talking Bucky's ear off about his date with Drax.

"They ought to call him 'the Destroyer,' man, 'cause let me tell you –"

"I don't need to hear that," Bucky laughed, holding up both hands.

Clint chuckled and began locating items to make breakfast with. He turned to Bucky and said, with a wink, "I see you're just getting in."

Bucky smiled, "Yeah."

"Walk of shame?"

Bucky shook his head. "I feel absolutely no shame about what I did."

"Fuck yeah, man," Clint said.

"Thank you for offering me the room, by the way."

"Bucky," he replied, "it's my genuine pleasure."

Bucky and Clint ate breakfast, then he showered and changed his clothes before setting out for the shelter. All the way, he heard Rumlow's voice. "I know about you, your pal, your buddy, your Stevie. You think he'll forgive you for taking that away from him?"

By the time the shelter was in sight, he'd had to wipe tears off his face more than once. His lip quivered and he tried to breathe in, tried to calm down, but it turned into a sob. He stopped outside the doors, looking around.

That was when he caught sight of him: Rumlow. He was barely twenty feet away and watching Bucky with those dark eyes. "You're a side project. Just a mess to be cleaned up."

Bucky glared right back at him and walked into the lobby. He sat down in the same chair he'd inhabited when he'd come for his entrance interview. He knew Darcy had seen him, but he didn't reply when she greeted him. He felt sick with the choice he was about to make.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and texted Steve.

From: **Bucky** 7:55 AM

I'm sorry, Steve.

Then he shut his phone off. Bucky knew that Pietro would have expected him to do it too. Steve had helped him remember that James Buchanan Barnes had done good things. He helped people and cared about others.

He wanted to be that Bucky again.

"Hey Bucky," Maria said as she entered the lobby, though her smile died when she saw his face. "C-come on back."

He followed behind her and glanced over his shoulder; Brock was standing outside the doors, watching him. Bucky swallowed and continued after her, saying, "Maria, I have to tell you something."

* * *

In the weeks that followed Bucky's disclosure, he worked and slept and tried not to think about Steve. He felt as though Rumlow still had a hold of his arm, and it ached in the cold. He had seen a copy of the New York Bulletin the day after he told Maria everything, and the top story was titled Drugs Found in Veterans Shelter. The author described her source as a 'Shelter Official' and Bucky was sure that was Pierce or Ross. He had a horrible taste in his mouth as he read a few lines of the piece. He stopped when it detailed a single arrest: Brock Rumlow.

It didn't say a word about a scandalous affair nor did it mention anyone losing their jobs. He hoped that, even if Brock fulfilled his threat, Pierce and Ross hadn't believed him. He wanted to believe that Steve's job had never been in danger.

Bucky left his phone off; having lived for so long without one, he only thought about it sometimes. When he did, he itched to turn it on and see if Steve had called or texted him; he wanted to know if Steve was okay. But he was a coward.

Bucky knew – he knew – he had done the right thing by exposing Brock. He believed that was the truth and hoped that Steve could see it someday, if he didn't then.

The knowledge that Steve wasn't trying to see him – that he had chosen not see him following what happened – it hurt. He tried not to cry himself to sleep at night, or replay Steve's confessions over and over; he tried to disappear into himself and forget.

He kept telling himself, If Steve wants to see me, he knows where I work.

But he never showed. Bucky knew he deserved this. He had destroyed too many lives to be forgiven.

For the first time in months, Bucky wanted to use. He grit his teeth against the urgency of his cravings. It had been so long since he'd even thought of it. But it was slowly rising beneath his skin, getting more and more intense: the need.

He was looking so rough that Pepper sent him home to get well. "You have sick time, Bucky. We can cover tonight."

As he walked home in the snow, he remembered that a guy who sold to him a few times lived near there. He began to shiver but not from the cold. He worried his lip with his teeth, trying to – what? Remember where he lived? Stop himself from looking?

He felt hot, but his body shook like he was coming down from a high and that thought made the desire worse.

He started walking – he wasn't entirely sure where to, but his feet were moving. Within ten minutes, the area became familiar and he panicked. The Shelter. He rubbed his face – he needed an NA meeting. He needed it, but what if Steve was there? What if Darcy saw him? She'd ask him why he disappeared. She'd tell him Steve got fired. She'd be disappointed in him.

But he had to go.

He checked his watch – seven-ten. He was sure that none of the regular staff would still be there. He hesitated only a few more seconds before he walked into the lobby.

He checked the schedule and, as luck would have it, was just in time for the evening meeting. He found the room with ease and sat in one of the chairs, avoiding the eyes of those around him. Any one of them might know what he'd done. Any one of them might tell Steve he was there.

His leg bounced and he fidgeted, keeping his head down as the first person stood. "Hi, I'm Darcy," she said and Bucky's head shot up. She was looking right at him as she said, "I'm an addict."

"Hi, Darcy," the group replied.

"Well, where do I start? Um… I used some through high school and, well, more in college. But I told myself I needed it to stay focused on school." She shook her head at the foolishness of that thought. "I was in college, just about to start a really exciting internship, but I needed to score. I, uh, got some from a friend and I had so much energy, I decided to drive to New Mexico for the internship.

"I don't… I don't know why, I mean, nothing was packed and it didn't start for a week, but… well, you know." Bucky did know; from the looks on others' faces, they knew too. "Well I didn't make it far. Luckily, I didn't wreck, but I did get pulled over. I was arrested and lost the internship spot." She sighed and said, "I almost lost everything else, too. I could have died, could have killed someone. When the cop was at my hearing, I was screaming at him that he ruined my life." She wiped some tears away. "But I know, now, that he saved it. I've been sober for two years and I'm graduating next year."

The group clapped and clapped while Darcy sat down. She was still looking at him with something he couldn't identify in her expression – sympathy, he thought. Maybe pity. He thought about standing and sharing, but was too afraid. What would he have to say?

"Hi everyone, I'm Bucky, addict. I killed my best friend and ruined the life of a therapist here so I could get laid. I've been a selfish person all my life and my addiction was just more of that. 'Kay, thanks."

About halfway through the meeting, though, he realized his leg wasn't bouncing anymore. A man was sharing about his wife and how she gave him the strength to stop using. Bucky stared at him as he spoke.

"She saved my life twice," he said. "The first time, when she found me after I OD'd. The second time, when she agreed to marry me."

He kept talking for a few minutes after that. He shared about their children and upcoming anniversary; he was so happy. Bucky felt bitter and resentful, listening to this guy. When he finally sat down, Bucky stood up.

"Hi, I'm Bucky and I'm an addict."

The group responded, "Hi Bucky."

He took a deep breath and said, "I just… I never wanted to be this person. When I was young, I had so many things I wanted to do. I could still do some of them, I'm sure, but it's like so much of my life is gone. I lost people – good people – to my addiction. I haven't spoken to my sister in, God, like five years. My little sister," he breathed in, realizing he had begun to cry. He wiped at his face, feebly, but continued, "So much lost, so much given up.

"Addicts hardly think about how much we hurt the people around us. I used to think, 'It's not their life, why do they even care?'" He saw several people nod their heads in agreement. "I showed up high so many times. Around her kids, even. But I was mad when she told me to never come back." He sniffed and wiped his nose on his arm. "My best friend died because of my addiction. His sister lost a brother. My sister did too, really." Bucky released a sob and shook his head, "Sorry," then turned to leave.

He saw Darcy stand and start coming toward him, but he rushed out of the room and ran home. Darcy didn't need his shit, just like Steve didn't. That night, he cried himself to sleep – not just for Steve, but for Pietro and Wanda, for Rebecca, for himself.

On the fourth Monday in December, Bucky was running errands and picking up things for his apartment. He planned to price out furniture to replace the items he would invariably need to return to Steve somehow, but thinking about it hurt too much.

While he was checking out at the bodega, he noticed the We ID sign. It read, If you were born before this date: December 23rd 1997, You cannot purchase alcohol.

It was nearly Christmas. He'd been so focused on himself, he'd nearly forgotten. When he looked around, he couldn't understand how he'd missed it – the lights, decorations, and music.

"Merry Christmas, Steve," he whispered to himself and paid the clerk.

As he headed back to the apartment, he passed a small art supply store. He would have simply kept walking but, in the window, there was a beautiful, leather-bound sketchbook. He wanted to leave and pretend he hadn't seen it, that it didn't remind him of Steve, but he couldn't.

Something drew him to the door.

He stepped inside and was accosted by the smell of wood, paint, and paper. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, imagining Steve in a place like this. Though it hurt, he smiled and approached the kid behind the counter.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smiling.

"If a lifelong artist lost everything, what would you recommend they buy to replace it all?"

"What medium does this artist use?"

Bucky thought back, trying to remember the different pieces Steve had in his office, and listed what he could. The kid was a little too elated to take Bucky through the store and help him pick out canvases, charcoals, pastels, paints, and one leather-bound sketchpad.

Each time he pointed out another item, Bucky had second thoughts. He wondered, over and over, What if Steve wants nothing to do with me? But these thoughts were not enough to deter him from spending a small fortune on supplies.

Each day hurt worse than the last; sometimes, he gasped for air because the pain was so intense. For the moment, the anxiety about what could happen had waned; it was replaced with the sharp stab of heartbreak. He deserved it, though; he had done it to himself, to Steve, to them.

He hated himself; felt a bitter rage that Pietro had died instead of him. His sister, Wanda, Steve – they were better off without him. They didn't need someone like him around. He hid his sobs in his pillow at night, so Clint wouldn't hear.

He spent Christmas alone in the apartment after Clint went to his grandma's place in Queens. Clint had set up a fake tree in the living room and decorated it with lights and ornaments. Bucky sat on the couch, drinking hot tea, and stared at it until his vision went blurry.

"Merry Christmas, Pietro," Bucky whispered.

A little while later, he was watching Mickey's Once Upon a Christmas when he heard three heavy knocks on the door. He jumped in surprise before stand up and walking over. He took a deep breath and checked the peephole.

"What the…" He unlocked the door and opened it, finding Natasha, tightly wrapped in a hat, coat, and a scarf. "How did you –"

"Shut the fuck up and let me in," she said, pushing past him. "Nice place," she remarked, looking around.

Bucky was so shocked, he stood at the door for nearly a minute before shaking himself and shutting it. He turned back to her and asked, "How did you find me?"

She gave him an aloof look and said, "Happy."

That simple word sent a sharp, stabbing pain to Bucky's heart. Not only did Steve know where he worked, but he could have easily discovered where Bucky had moved to. It was at that moment that Bucky realized he would have to accept the reality. Steve was never coming to him.

"Okay," he said, "why are you here?"

She removed her hat and scarf, then unzipped her coat. "Good question," she said. "I should be with my boyfriend, eating brunch with his sister and her children." He didn't respond, knowing that Nat would simply interrupt him. "But, instead, I'm out in the fucking cold, looking for you."

He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, here I am."

She saw right through him and he had known she would. "There you are," she agreed, looking him over. "You look like shit."

He laughed, despondently, and nodded, "I'm sure I do."

She walked to the couch and sat down. "You wanna talk about it?"

All humor, even the false kind, seeped from his face. "Does Steve know where I am?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "I have no idea. He hasn't done much of anything recently."

Bucky's knees buckled and he fell to the floor, sitting against the kitchen counter. He heard Brock's voice taunting him. "You think he'll say 'you did the right thing' when he loses everything?"

"What the –" Nat began, standing up, but Bucky interrupted her.

"Did he lose his job?" His voice was flat and empty.

She hesitated for a moment before resuming her seat, watching him closely. "That isn't my story to tell."

He scoffed, "Don't bullshit me. That's why he hasn't tried to see me, right? I ruined his life?"

Her eyes widened in rage. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Bucky gulped, having never seen Natasha angry, let alone furious. "You expect him to come to you? After you dropped a bomb, then ghosted him?"

"No, I –"

"Oh, that's not what you were saying? You mean, you disappeared, shut your phone off, and didn't think he'd come find you?"

Bucky let his head fall back, then lifted it and slammed it back again. "Fuck," he snarled. "I'm such a fucking idiot."

Natasha lifted an eyebrow at him and said, "You thought that, if he wanted you, he'd come get you." Bucky gave her no response, so she continued, "But you never thought about how much you were hurting him by disappearing."

His eyes welled up with tears and covered his face, humiliated and angry at himself. What have I done? He thought, He'll never forgive me.

She stood up and walked over, kneeling on the floor next to him. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a hug. He was sobbing so hard, he barely considered how strange it was that Natasha, Steve's best friend, was comforting the man that hurt him so much.

For that moment, he let the tears flow and wrapped his arms around her. He mumbled, "Thank you, I'm sorry, forgive me," over and over, though Natasha couldn't absolve him of what he'd done.

She stayed a bit longer and helped him get into bed, though it was still early. He caught her glancing at his cell phone and he knew she wanted to say something, but she didn't. By the time she left, a numbness had taken hold of him. He lay there for hours, until he had to get up to eat dinner; then he showered and went back to bed.

The following Thursday, Bucky returned from Stark a little after eleven. Clint had left at about the same time, but told Bucky he was going to stay with Drax. Bucky was happy for them. He was also glad to have some privacy for what he needed to do.

May had given him an apple pie and told him to take Friday off. "You're asleep on your feet," she'd said. It was another failure in a long line, though May hadn't been angry with him. She only seemed worried.

As he rode up in the elevator, he had to wipe tears from his cheeks, as he imagined the worst things. Steve wants nothing to do with me. I fucked everything up, he thought. He lost his job and his boyfriend ghosted him all in the same day.

Bucky had left his phone off since that day. Initially, he shut it off to dodge Steve's questions about what Bucky had apologized for. But then, he left it off to avoid… everyone. But he knew it was time to face them.

The pie was still on the counter in the kitchen, untouched, since neither Clint nor Bucky had been back since he'd dropped it off. Rather than dirty a plate, Bucky ate several bites of it right out of the pie plate. It was sweet but seemed to turn to ash in his mouth, so he covered it back up and tossed the fork in the sink.

When he removed the brace, sharp, pulsing aches wracked him. The pain was always worse in the cold. He showered with very hot water, trying to warm the metal up to ease the throbbing. It only had a minor affect, so he changed into his pajama pants and found the ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. Drinking right from the bathroom sink, he swallowed four tablets, then returned to his bedroom.

As he sat on the bed, he worried what he would do with himself the next day, given so much time to wallow. Glancing at the closet door, he reminded himself that he had hidden the art supplies there. He had no idea how he would get them to Steve, or if he would even accept them.

I could mail them to Natasha, he thought. Steve would have to accept them.

Shaking his head, he stared at the cell phone on the bedside table and frowned. He picked it up and held the power button down, nibbling his lip as the screen came to life.

There were several text messages and missed calls, with accompanying voicemails. He was afraid to listen to them and imagined, for a moment, simply erasing them. No muss, no fuss, he thought, but then berated himself for being such a coward.

He slid himself to the floor and hid his face in his hands, taking several deep breaths. He was about to open the text messages when he heard a pounding at his front door.

His head shot up and he stood, walking toward the living room. Bucky hoped it was just Clint, having forgotten his key and been dumped by Drax. He hoped it was the neighbor, coming to warn Bucky that the apartment building had caught fire. He hoped it was a serial killer, hell-bent on collecting Bucky's spinal cord for his display.

When he reached the front door, he knew it was none of those things. He glanced in the peephole and saw Steve – full beard, perfect hair, everything.

"Oh, God," he whispered, trying to figure out what to do.

Pretending he wasn't home and going back to bed seemed like a good plan. He turned around and barely took a step, when his goddamned cell phone rang. He checked the caller ID: Stevie.

"Ah, good," Steve's voice was muffled through the door, "your phone does work."

Bucky took a deep breath. He had believed he would never see Steve again, never get the chance to apologize or explain. He, quickly, turned and opened the door, coming face to face with Steve Rogers.

This moment reminded him of the first time Steve had come to him late at night. He was nervous – hell, he was scared.

"Steve, I –"

"Save it," Steve interrupted, his voice flat. "Now I know you're alive," he said and turned to leave.

"Steve, wait!" Bucky reached for him but he didn't get a chance to finish, because Steve pounced on him.

He pressed Bucky against the cold wall outside the door, in searing kiss. Bucky responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck but letting Steve take everything he wanted. His lips were harsh on Bucky's; his teeth even harsher and his hands held Bucky in place with a relentless grip.

Before he knew what was happening, Steve had maneuvered them inside the apartment and shut the door. He lifted Bucky up and set him on the island counter.

"Steve," he gasped between kisses. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't be sorry, baby," Steve said, pressing kisses to Bucky's neck.

"No, I –"

"Stop," Steve commanded and Bucky bit his lip, though he couldn't hold back the sobs wracking his body. "Oh, baby boy," Steve cooed, "you must have been so scared, telling them about Rumlow, knowing what he was going to do."

"H-how did you know I –?"

"When I couldn't reach you, I begged Maria to tell me something – anything she could. She told me he threatened to expose us." Bucky covered his face to hide his tears but Steve pulled his hands away with kind fingers. "I am so proud of you," he said, looking Bucky right in the eye. "I resigned when they told me what they were going to do."

Bucky gasped and said, "B-but your job!"

Steve shook his head, "They wanted to make it all go away, so they planned to kick Rumlow out and cover the drugs up. I couldn't let that happen. I called the Bulletin and then the police. I barred Pierce and Ross from getting Rumlow's room, myself. While the cops arrested him, I handed in my resignation."

Bucky felt fresh tears and he said, "But that job is everything to you."

"No, baby boy," Steve said, shaking his head, "it's not. It never was. There are so many ways I can serve. It doesn't have to be there."

Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and buried his face in his collared shirt. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I wanted to prove I was good enough for you but all I did was cost you your job."

"The only thing you cost me was a few gray hairs." Bucky chuckled and Steve held him, leaning his forehead against Bucky's bare shoulder. "Don't do that again, Bucky," he said. The statement was stern but his voice was timid, even desperate. "I didn't know where you moved to; you didn't answer your phone. I even worried that Rumlow had hurt you."

Bucky took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. For disappearing. For everything."

"I know, baby," he said, pressing kisses to Bucky's cheeks, nose, and forehead; his anger evaporated. "I know."

Bucky gave a small smile but the anxiety remained. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again," he whispered.

"I wanted to come find you right away but I…" he trailed off and Bucky knew what he was going to say.

"I'm so sorry," he said, looking away.

Steve reached up and touched Bucky's cheek. "When it came out that you and I were seeing each other, Sam was pretty thrown. It shouldn't have mattered," he said, shaking his head.

"What made you decide to find me?" Bucky asked, nervously.

"Nat," he answered, honestly. "I thought you had dumped me, that you just didn't want to be with me."

Bucky cursed himself and whispered, "And I just assumed you would come find me."

"Why didn't you come talk to me?" Steve asked. "About Rumlow?"

Bucky sighed, looking away. "He said… he said you thought of me as a project, that if you had to choose between me or your job, you'd dump me. I just…" He trailed off, swallowing around a dry throat. "I believed him."

When he chanced a glance at Steve's face, he immediately dropped his gaze again; he looked devastated. Bucky worried his lip, wincing when his canines pinched the skin, but unsure of what else to do or say. I really am no good for him, Bucky thought.

"You don't…trust me?" Steve whispered and Bucky's heart broke wide open in his chest.

"It isn't you," he whispered. "I'm not good enough for you, Steve," he continued. "I never was. Everything I've done, the idea that you'd choose a job you love, a calling you've had for years, over me was…believable."

Steve didn't respond right away and Bucky found a very interesting speck on the floor to stare at. In truth, Bucky was terrified that Steve would see how worthless he really was; that he'd acknowledge the truth in Bucky's words; that he'd leave.

Please, don't leave me, he thought to himself, then whispered it out loud. He felt Steve's eyes on him as he continued, "I've been selfish my whole life, Steve. I've lied, cheated, stolen, and someone died because of me. But, after all of it, I met you and… you make it feel… okay. Like I could be okay, someday." When he looked up, finally, meeting Steve's eyes, he saw tears and so much love. "I love you, Stevie," he whispered. "So, please, don't leave me."

Steve shook his head, "Buck, I told you, I'm in this and I want this. With you." Bucky's eyes were wide and wet as he regarded Steve. "I knew you were out there, hatin' and blamin' yourself, thinkin' I got fired because of you. Darcy told me she saw you at the meeting. She said you looked so sad and scared." He pressed a gentle kiss to Bucky's lips and Bucky took a shaky breath. "I knew you needed me but I didn't come. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

Bucky released a breath and wrapped his arms around Steve, pressing his face into Steve's neck. "I was so scared," he whispered. "I thought – I thought you would be so mad at me. That you wouldn't want me anymore. I just kept going to work like everything was okay, hoping you'd come. But I ran myself down." He sobbed and Steve tightened his embrace. "I th-thought I could use, maybe get just enough to forget. But I didn't, I went to the meeting. I was so afraid to go to the shelter. When I saw Darcy, I wanted to leave. I didn't want her to tell me that you lost your job."

Bucky's gasping breaths gave way to heavy tears as the overwhelming fear and sadness of the last two weeks crashed over him. But it was followed by something warm – something light. Relief. Steve was there, holding him, comforting him.

Steve still loved him.

"I love you," Bucky whispered. "I'm so sorry."

"Buck," Steve whispered, pulling back enough to see his face. "When they told me you came forward, all I felt was proud that my boyfriend did that."

Bucky released a breath and smiled, "Boyfriend, huh?"

Steve grinned, tucking some hair behind Bucky's ear. "Yeah." Steve began massaging Bucky's bicep and shoulder, gently, as if he knew Rumlow had hurt him, and he whispered, "He'll never touch you again."

"How did –" Bucky began, then remembered. "Maria."

Steve nodded his head, pulling Bucky against his chest in a tight embrace. "I owe her a lot," he said.

"Me too," Bucky whispered. They remained there for some time, holding each other and kissing until Bucky asked, "W-would you like to see the apartment?"

Steve grinned and nodded, "Yes, I'd love to." He backed up so Bucky could slip off of the counter.

"This is the kitchen and living room," Bucky said, gesturing. Then, he took Steve's hand and led him down the hall. He pointed to the first door, "Bathroom." They continued walking until they reached the last door on the right. "My bedroom," Bucky said, stepping inside. "Full of you," he added, pointing to the furniture.

Steve's smile was so bright and joyful, Bucky couldn't help but smile too. Steve followed him and spent a few minutes looking the room over. When he turned to Bucky again, his expression was decidedly different. His eyes were dark and intent on Bucky's face as he approached. Bucky's heart sped up and he shivered.

Steve reached out and grabbed him, pressing his back to the wall. His mouth was on Bucky's, licking into it; their bodies were flush and Steve's hands were on Bucky's head, turning it to deepen the kiss. Their teeth clacked but Bucky didn't care. How could he? Steve was here. All of the passion and pain and love inside Bucky boiled to the surface – deep feelings he hadn't realized he'd been holding in began to bubble up.

"Weeks," Steve breathed. "Weeks of missing you and wanting you."

"I know," Bucky moaned into Steve's mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"Don't do that again," Steve said, breaking away and meeting Bucky's eyes. "Don't disappear."

"I won't," Bucky whispered, shaking his head. "I swear, I swear it, Stevie."

"I missed you so much," Steve said as his kisses turned frantic and needy.

"I missed you too," Bucky murmured.

Steve's hands held Bucky in a tight grip, as though he feared Bucky would disappear if he let go. Bucky held him right back, gripping his hair and flesh, pressing their bodies together like they did the first night they were together. Like then, Steve picked Bucky up by gripping his thighs and wrapping them around his waist before walking them to the bed.

He laid Bucky down, then leaned back to unbutton his shirt, holding Bucky's gaze. "Any rules?" Bucky asked, lifting his arms to put them above his head.

Steve shook his head, "No, Buck. I want your hands on me."

Steve and Bucky were both trying to get his shirt unbuttoned, though it caused more fumbling than actual success. Steve, finally, slapped Bucky's hands away and pulled the partially open shirt over his head, tossing it away.

The rest of their clothing followed quickly after until, finally, Steve laid his naked body against Bucky's, swallowing his moans. When Steve pulled back, he whispered, "I wanna make you come over and over. Will you let me, baby boy?"

Bucky had never once tried to have multiple orgasms; he'd read about men who could accomplish it, though, and the thought was exhilarating. "Yes," he nodded. "I've never –"

"It's okay," Steve whispered, then met Bucky in a hard, passionate kiss.

He began to grind their hips together and Bucky dug his nails into Steve's shoulders. He lifted his legs up, cradling Steve between them, and shuddered at the feeling. "Oh, fuck, Stevie," he moaned.

"Shh, baby boy," Steve whispered, pulling away and kissing down Bucky's neck to his chest, laving and biting his nipples, then continuing down, across his abdomen. He paused, suddenly, and asked, "Lube? Condoms?"

Bucky nodded, "Yes, in the bedside table." Steve moved to grab them, finding an unopened box of condoms and a bottle of warming lube. He looked at Bucky, questioning. "I bought 'em the first night we had sex," he explained. "I wasn't sure if you would have any and would've tossed myself out a window if we'd had to stop and go get some."

Steve chuckled and moved closer, "Me too." He kissed Bucky's lips and whispered, "Turn over."

Bucky did as he was told and positioned himself on his front. Steve set the lube and condoms on the bed and maneuvered Bucky's body the way he wanted it: kneeling with his legs spread and a pillow under his chest. Bucky swallowed and focused on his breathing; he couldn't see what Steve was doing and couldn't determine much from his movements.

He gasped and jerked when he felt something wet against his balls, then he moaned when Steve took one of them into his mouth, sucking gently. He focused on keeping his body from collapsing as Steve licked over his perineum, and –

"Ah!" he shouted as Steve's tongue pressed inside him. "Oh, oh, God, Steve," he whispered.

Steve's hands were busy too; he wrapped his hand around Bucky's dick and stroked him, slow and tender. Then a lubed up finger pressed in next to his tongue and Bucky cried out. This minor stimulation was sending him spiraling much too fast.

He gasped, "St-Steve, I'm close." Steve sat back but continued using both hands. He pressed two fingers inside Bucky's ass, finding his prostate with ease, and began rubbing there. "Fuck, Steve, fuck, I'm gonna come, gonna come all over the bed, fuck!" Steve worked him through it, then gentled his touch, before releasing Bucky completely.

"I'll give you a minute to cool down," Steve said, "then we'll start again." Bucky whined at the thought, then yelped when Steve's right hand smacked his ass cheek. "One minute," he said again, though his voice was far sterner.

Steve wiped up Bucky's come as best as he could, kissing Bucky's shoulders and back as he did. He checked Bucky's shoulder, giving it a short, but wonderful massage. He left the room for a few moments and returned with a hand towel.

"Buck," he began as he sat down on the bed. "You have a vibrating plug in here," he pointed to the bedside table. "I'm going to use it on you."

Bucky shivered at the thought and nodded, "Yes."

"Yes, what?" Steve asked, kissing Bucky's hair.

"Yes, Sir," Bucky corrected.

"Oh, baby boy," Steve all but moaned. "You're so good for me."

"Wanna be good for you," Bucky whispered.

"You're everything for me, Buck," Steve whispered and gently turned Bucky's head toward him and found his lips.

After a few moments, Steve had returned to his place behind Bucky and the bright, blue vibrator was out of the drawer. Bucky heard a condom wrapper rip and the lube cap open, then felt a cool pressure against him. He shivered and sighed as it pressed into him; then he groaned the filthiest sound he'd ever heard himself make as the plug, resting in its place against his prostate, began to buzz.

He began moaning and couldn't stop himself; his hands gripped the blanket, the pillows, his hair – he couldn't find anything to hold on to that would keep him grounded. He'd bought the plug to use with Steve but had never been brave enough to suggest it. On his own, he hadn't even thought of touching himself, let alone using a toy. Now, with Steve behind him, rubbing his cheeks and keeping them spread as Bucky fell apart before him – it was perfect. He couldn't picture using it any other way.

"Steve, please," he begged, reaching back, blindly. "Please, I need, I need," he cried out.

Steve pressed his hips against Bucky's ass, his dick lined up along the cleft, and he laid his body over Bucky's. He moaned too, feeling the vibrations too. "Can you come again? For me, baby boy?"

Bucky was moaning constantly now; he'd found Steve's hand and laced their fingers together, clenching his fist. He knew his spit was on the pillows but he didn't care. "Please," he gasped, "make me come. Need it, need –"

He cried out, interrupting himself, when Steve's free hand reached around and began stroking his dick. Bucky had no idea when he'd gotten hard again.

"Gonna come, Sir, gonna –" Then he screamed, releasing all over the bed again.

Steve worked him through it again, then turned the vibrator off. He waited for Bucky to let his fingers go before he slowly and carefully pulled the toy out. He got up to dispose of the condom in the trash and used used the towel to clean the mess off of the blanket, though Bucky had the presence of mind to know it would need to soak.

"Baby boy," Steve whispered. "You're so open and ready for me, but I don't know if I should give that to you yet."

Bucky shivered at Steve's words. "Please, I want it,"

"You want what?"

"You," Bucky whispered. "Please, fuck me."

"What did you say?" Steve asked.

Bucky swallowed, "Please, fuck me, Sir."

Steve groaned and bit Bucky's shoulder, the right one, then helped Bucky to lay on his back. Bucky watched Steve rip the condom wrapper open and slip it on, then pop the cap on the lube. When he was satisfied, he wiped his hand on the towel and pressed Bucky's legs up, his thighs flush to his abdomen, and Steve sank inside him.

It was as if he had never left; as if they hadn't been apart for weeks. "Oh, baby boy," he groaned. "So tight for me. Made just for my cock, weren't you?"

"Yes, Sir," Bucky moaned. "All for you. All of me."

Steve started out slow, pressing hot kisses to Bucky's mouth as his dick drug over Bucky's prostate like that was its job. Their sweat-slick bodies moved together easily. As Steve thrusted, he grabbed Bucky's hair to pull his head back and leaned down to sink his teeth into Bucky's neck. Bucky cried out; he knew Steve was leaving marks but he couldn't care less. As Steve pounded him into the mattress, his teeth yanked skin. Bucky knew it wasn't meant to punish him; it wasn't meant to cause pain, but it did and it felt so good.

He cried out, releasing desperate sounds, knowing that if Steve didn't slow down, he'd come soon. "Steve," he gasped, "I'm close. Please, fuck."

"No," Steve growled without releasing his bite. "Not yet."

"I can't," Bucky whined and dug his nails into Steve's back, drawing angry, red lines. "I'm – I'm too close."

At that, Steve stopped and Bucky nearly screamed when he reached down and gripped the base of Bucky's dick. He also kept his hold on Bucky's hair but stopped biting. Slowly, he began stroking his hand, up and down.

"Fuck, Steve, don't stop," he begged. "Oh, oh, yes, yes –" and he was already so close again but, then, Steve released him. "No, no, no," he grit his teeth. "Please, Steve –"

"I know, baby boy," Steve cooed. "I'll give you everything you need. I always do, don't I?" Bucky nodded, though he hadn't relaxed his jaw. "I'm gonna fuck you hard, bring you so close, but I'm not gonna let you come again until I'm good and ready."

"But –" Bucky began, but slammed his mouth shut when Steve's hand came down in a hard smack against his ass.

"I always give you what you need and I'll let you come," he explained in a stern voice. "But I won't rush or give it to you when you argue. You know why?"

"B-because," Bucky licked his lips, "you know what I n-need."

"And if I say you don't need to come, what do you say?"

Bucky just barely stopped himself from whining. "I say 'Yes, Sir.'"

"And if I say you're gonna come over and over until your dick is raw and you've got no come left to shoot?"

"Oh, fuck, Steve," he groaned. "I-I say 'Yes, Sir.'"

"Good," Steve smiled, affectionately. "But I will tell you, I'd never do either of those things unless you agreed beforehand. I'd never do anything you wouldn't want me to. Okay, baby boy?"

Bucky sighed in relief and nodded, "Okay, Sir."

Steve hummed with pleasure at the title and whispered, "Good boy."

He waited a few more moments before he began thrusting again, slow and languid, kissing Bucky in the same way. The room felt too hot, humid, and the air too thick with sex and sweat. Too quickly, the fire began to burn at the base of Bucky's spine and he gripped Steve.

"Getting close, Sir," he whined.

"Should I stop then?" Steve asked, his hot breath in Bucky's ear as he snapped his hips.

"I-if you think I shouldn't come yet, Sir," Bucky stuttered, though he thought he might cry if Steve decided to make him wait some more. "W-wanna be good for you."

Steve sat up, lifting Bucky's right leg over his shoulder and wrapping his left leg around his waist. "You're always so good for me, baby boy."

After that, Steve's thrusts were hard and deep; he gripped Bucky's thigh with one hand and his hip with the other. Each time he snapped his hips, Bucky cried out, and each time he pulled nearly all the way out, Bucky whined.

"You wanna come, baby boy? Wanna come for me?"

"Yes, Sir, I love you, yes, yes, yes," he moaned, desperation tinging his words.

"Oh, fuck, baby, come for me," Steve growled, snapping his hips over and over.

Bucky was shaking; his body arched, his head thrown back, and his arms up, gripping the top of the mattress so hard, it was folding toward him. He wasn't thinking about how much his left arm would hurt later or how his back muscles were cramping from the position. He cried out, a high, shocked moan as he came harder than he'd ever come before. His entire body clenched and Steve gasped.

"Oh, fuck," Steve rambled, "I love you so fuckin' much. You feel so good. Gonna come in you, gonna come so fuckin' hard, fill you up. All mine, all mine," then he slammed home, pulsing deep inside Bucky, filling the condom.

Bucky felt Steve slip out of him and whined at the loss but Steve kissed him and he relaxed. He felt Steve's weight shift as he got off of the bed to throw the condom away. When he returned, he pulled Bucky against his chest and wrapped both arms around him.

"I missed you," Steve whispered, his voice breathy and soft. "I was so afraid I'd lost you."

Bucky shook his head, though his position made it difficult, and said, "Thought I'd ruined everything. Just knew you'd see I was never good enough for you."

"Oh, Buck," Steve whispered, pressing kisses to the top of Bucky's head. "You're so amazing. So brave and strong. I'm gonna be with you every day, reminding you."

"Stevie," he whispered, wrapping his arms around Steve's neck.

Steve smiled against his skin and Bucky couldn't help but grin back. "Let's get up, take a shower, and find some food."

Bucky grumbled but followed Steve's instructions. It was later, as they were eating leftover Thai food in their pajamas – well, Bucky's pajamas that Steve borrowed – and watching reruns that Bucky remembered. He gasped and almost choked on his drunken noodles as he stood up and rushed back to his room. He opened his closet door and began pulling the bags out.

"Buck?" Steve asked, coming into the bedroom. "You okay?"

"Yes!" He said, excitedly. "I totally forgot." Bucky set the bags on the bed and finished, "Merry Christmas, Stevie."

Steve's mouth fell open as he stepped forward. He opened the bags and pulled the items out: charcoals, pencils, canvases, paints, colored pencils, and one leather-bound sketchbook. He touched each one with such reverence, Bucky felt a heaviness in his heart. He wondered, Has no one ever gotten stuff like this for him?

"Buck," Steve whispered, touching the sketchbook. "When did you… this is beautiful. This is all amazing. When did you get these?"

"Just before Christmas," he admitted. "I didn't know how I'd get it to you. I just knew I needed to."

Steve set the items down and strode to where Bucky stood by the closet door. He had tears in his eyes and a huge smile on his face. "Thank you," he whispered. "No one's ever done this for me. Not many people know I sketch and even fewer know I paint. Thank you, thank you," he said, pressing kisses to Bucky's cheeks, nose, eyes, and finally his lips.

"Is this stuff okay?" He asked, feeling slightly nervous.

"Okay?" Steve asked, incredulously. "This is wonderful." He pulled Bucky into his embrace, kissing his left shoulder along the tattoo. "Hey," he whispered, "would you let me draw you?"

Bucky's eyes were wide when he pulled back and asked, "You'd… you'd want to?"

Steve nodded, leaning forward to press a kiss to Bucky's lips. "It would be my honor to draw you, Bucky Barnes."

Bucky gasped, feeling his own tears prickling his eyes. "I love you, Steve," he said.

Steve smiled and pulled Bucky into a hug. "I love you, too, Buck. So much."


	4. Gimme, Gimme Shelter

Six Months Later

"Steve," Bucky groaned.

"Don't move," Steve ordered, his eyes moving over Bucky's body. "You know the rules."

"Stevie, come on."

"The more you beg, the longer this takes, baby boy."

Bucky snapped his mouth shut and gripped the sheets beneath him. Steve held his gaze for a moment but then turned his attention back to the page in front of him. Bucky had woken up that morning to an empty bed and the sound of charcoal scraping across paper. He looked around and found Steve sitting in his armchair, sketchpad in hand. Bucky had begun to sit up but Steve held a blackened hand up. "Hold still, baby. Just a few more minutes."

"Are you drawing me?" Bucky had asked, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Steve nodded, giving him a soft, affectionate smile. "Yeah."

"I look terrible," he said.

Steve gave him a level gaze and said, "No, you do not."

"Can I see?"

"If you're good," Steve said. "And you don't move."

From his spot on the bed, Bucky could only see the cover of the sketchbook and Steve's eyes. He was wearing his glasses – which Bucky thought were really adorable – and had a look of total concentration on his face.

In the weeks following their reunion in December, Steve had gone apartment hunting. He'd asked Bucky to come along and he agreed; his only question was about income. Steve, then, explained that Dr. Strange, the psychiatrist, had offered Steve a position at his practice. It was substantially higher paying than his position with the VA and, since Dr. Strange was contracted with the Shelter, Steve continued seeing his patients.

In January, he found a place in Brooklyn and was moved in by the end of the month. When Bucky offered to return the furniture, Steve shook his head and reiterated, "When you move in with me, it will come back."

They weren't there – yet. Bucky was actually waiting to see if Clint and Drax would move in together. When that happened, Bucky would move out. He had mentioned that possibility to Steve, trying gauge his reaction and Steve had only smiled and said, "Can't wait."

"Steve," Bucky whined, "we have to get ready to go soon."

"I know," Steve answered.

"We'll be late," Bucky said.

"Sam and Wanda will be fine," Steve chuckled.

When Bucky had the chance, he'd finally checked his messages back in December and found that Wanda had called him back. She had only said that she "always knew" that Bucky hadn't been at fault for the accident. She never blamed him, she'd said. Bucky had carried around that guilt and still did, though it no longer weighed on him as heavily. It would always be there, though. But he believed it should be.

When he called Wanda again, they set plans to visit and, during one afternoon, Sam had stopped by Steve's new apartment. When he met Wanda, he'd gone all starry-eyed, stuttered his greeting, and left with her phone number. They'd been seeing one another for a few months.

Steve hadn't been wrong when he'd said that Sam was thrown by his sudden attraction men, but he'd gotten used to it pretty quickly. It helped that he already liked and respected Bucky.

"Buck," Steve said, knocking him from his reverie. "Whatever you're thinking about, stop it. You look really unhappy."

Bucky laughed and shook his head, "Not unhappy at all." He stretched in the morning sun. "I'd be really happy if you washed your hands and came back to bed."

Steve chuckled, setting the book and charcoal down, "Thought we were gonna be late."

Bucky smirked at Steve, watching as he wiped his hands with a towel and crawled onto the bed. "They'll be fine," Bucky said, pulling Steve into a kiss.

fin


End file.
